Angels in the Architecture
by takinoborudesu
Summary: (WING AU) Kumiko plays the euphonium and has massive wings. Reina faces issues at home. Meanwhile, Kitauji's band director, Hashimoto-sensei, kind of seems like a jerk. And no one knows what Taki is up to. A story best left unexplained. (This fic contains links to music and art that FF does not allow. I STRONGLY RECOMMEND READING IT ON AO3: Archiveofourown, org/works/11100084
1. Prologue 1: Wings

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 1: Prologue**

* * *

(These are the 5 **prologue** chapters of the fic. They are relatively lighthearted compared to the rest of the work. Please be warned, this fic will only get darker as it continues. **Main characters: Kumiko, Reina, Hashimoto, and Taki.** It might not seem like it at first, but I promise you these are the main characters.)

 **TAGS FROM AO3:** Kumirei (Kumiko x Reina), Cute!Kumirei, Protective!Kumiko, Conductor!Niiyama, Conductor!Hashimoto

 **TRIGGER WARNINGS FROM AO3:** foster care, canon divergence

* * *

The following 5 chapters contain **links** to concert band music, but FF won't let me embed them like AO3 does. A lot of these links are broken. For the best reading experience, **I VERY STRONGLY RECOMMEND READING THIS FIC ON AO3.** You're missing out. Really.

 **archiveofourown ,org /works/11100084**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Wings**

Kumiko waited restlessly for the last rays of light to fade from the dark-blue horizon. Perched dozens of meters high on a tree limb above the woods, hidden by bushels of blue-tinged autumn leaves, she finally felt safe enough to stretch and relax. Nobody would see her up here in the dying evening light.

Yawning and arching her back, Kumiko lazily extended her massive wings.

Amber-toned feathers fanned out through the leaves as the middle school girl stretched her seldom-used avian limbs. She sighed as she slumped back against the tree trunk, enjoying the twilight breeze blowing through the treetops and ruffling her short brown hair. One of her legs dangled over the bough as she shifted to reach for her phone.

Suddenly hesitating and deciding that there still could be hikers out at this time, Kumiko glanced around at the foliage below her before folding her wings back into the shadows. Stretching now was maybe not so smart. After all, her full wingspan was more than five times her height; about the length of a small bus. She was not exactly invisible when she risked herself like this.

Kumiko flipped her phone around and unlocked the screen, then started dialing her home phone.

Her dad picked up, speaking in English.

 _"Kumi? Are you still in band rehearsal?"_

"Yeah," said Kumiko, answering in Japanese as she lied awkwardly. "We're rehearsing late tonight. Just wanted you to know."

 _"Okay, sweetheart. Call us when you need to be picked up."_

"Uh, actually," said Kumiko, "I can take the train myself, so, uh, you don't need-"

 _"No way Jose. Maybe when you're in high school, but you're a bit too young for that right now. Call me when rehearsal is over, okay?"_

Kumiko rolled her eyes in annoyance, flicking nearby branches with her feathers and snapping a twig in the process. Great. Now she'd have to fly all the way back to Kita middle school for her dad to pick her up. Actually no- she couldn't even fly the entire way, or she would be seen. She'd basically have to get back on foot.

"Okay," she said, sighing. "Bye, dad. I gotta go."

 _"See you later, alligator."_

Kumiko hung up and groaned in frustration. Now she had to cut her flying short just to make time for the walk back.

Glancing beyond the leaves, Kumiko saw that it was dark enough now. Tonight was a new moon, and the first stars were peeping out behind wisps of clouds. There were no lights anywhere in the sprawling woods below, and even if anyone saw her, they might just think that they'd seen an unusually large bird in the dark sky. It was a perfect night for flying.

Tucking her phone away in her pocket and zipping it shut, Kumiko stood up carefully, keeping one hand against the tree trunk for support. It had been an entire week since the last time she came out to practice. She drew in a deep breath of crisp autumn air and felt the wind rush between her fingertips. Now, finally, the world below was entirely hers to explore.

Kumiko smiled, then dipped forward, and let herself plummet toward the earth.

She unfurled her wings in midair with a loud _whoosh,_ breaking the fall and swooping upward into the night. Laughter tore from her lungs at the adrenaline as she rolled upside-down into inverted flight, viewing the stars above her as wind roared in her ears.

Flying in an inverted loop was a trick that she'd taught herself last week, her newest skill after figuring out how to break a fall with her wings. Up until recently, Kumiko's forays into flight had not been as fancy, consisting mostly of retracting and extending her wings, taking off from the ground running, and- most terrifyingly- learning how to land without breaking her legs.

Kumiko flexed and tilted her wings awkwardly to change directions. She circled around in the air, keeping an eye on the spot she'd taken off from, so that she wouldn't get lost later.

It had only been a year and a half since she had discovered her wings, and Kumiko knew there was still a lot she had to learn; not just furthering her flying skills, but also discovering her origins, and her purpose. She figured she wasn't meant to be a superhero or anything, since her only skills were flying... and the weird glowing thing.

As she flew, Kumiko flipped her hand over and focused a small ball of light in her palm. It was pleasantly warm in her hand against the cold wind up here, but it didn't seem very practical for a superhero in the modern world. Even a flashlight could outperform her, and a military jet would definitely outfly her. There was nothing she could do that technology couldn't. If she were created to fulfill some kind of superhero mission, then whoever created her had messed up.

Also, Kumiko thought back to all the times she quit practicing taking off because she was too scared to think about landing... and knew that she wasn't exactly brave, or bold, or determined. She was literally nothing like the energetic pixie-girl heroines in manga books or anime shows. All she knew was that she loved the thrill of flight.

Maybe it was okay to just do this for fun. Flying was simply another thing Kumiko liked doing, alongside playing euphonium, eating snacks, and reading extreme horror novels. It had become an ordinary part of her life as much as anything else. What was wrong with that? As long as she kept it a secret so she wouldn't endanger her mom and dad, Kumiko didn't see a problem with just enjoying her otherwise useless abilities. Right? There was nothing wrong with that... yeah... it was all fine...

When it came time to land, Kumiko began to glide closer above the treetops, reducing her altitude and speed as she descended in a spiral. She had learned to land safely by copying airplanes. She was relatively confident in her landing technique these days; as long as there weren't strong winds, she had no problem with safety.

The forest was too dense for Kumiko to land directly on the ground, so she decided to employ her take-off tree as a transition point.

Her wings swished powerfully to keep her aloft as she touched down on the branch. With little effort, she dropped down to the leaf-strewn earth, wings fluttering to slow her fall before she hit the ground. A perfect touchdown.

Kumiko broke into a self-congratulatory smile. She picked up her schoolbag from the tree trunk where she'd left it, and started off along the trail leading out of the woods, humming to herself.

Then a twig snapped behind her.

Kumiko whirled around, heart pounding. Darkness loomed before her.

A beat of silence.

Footsteps crackled through the underbrush, drawing nearer.

* * *

Kumiko tore into a sprint. She dashed through the blackness, gasping for breath and stumbling on the bumpy trail. She could not be seen. _She could not be seen._

As she rushed forward, her enormous feathers began tearing away, fluttering into the night and crumbling into dust. Kumiko ran faster, panicking and desperately praying her wings would shed quickly. Oh god... if anyone saw her...

She was stupid for coming out tonight. Why wasn't she more careful? Why did she have to be so stupid?

Luckily, by the time she reached the edge of the woods, her wings had completely disappeared.

Panting and sweating from exhaustion, Kumiko threw her schoolbag on the sidewalk and collapsed against a streetlamp by the road to catch her breath. She glanced behind her into the gaping darkness of the trail entrance behind her, but saw nothing.

Swallowing, she reached over and ran her palm over her back, just to make sure she looked normal. Then she stretched back and zipped up the two open slits on the back of her school uniform shirt. The zippers were modifications she'd added herself to accommodate her extra limbs.

For good measure, Kumiko fished her crumpled blazer jacket out of her schoolbag and pulled it over her sweat-drenched shirt, completing her school uniform and hiding the zippers.

Kumiko's heart never stopped pounding as she made her way to Kita middle school. Every few steps, she looked over her shoulder for anyone tailing her. Each time a car approached from behind, she expected it to pull over next to her.

She didn't get a single hour of sleep that night.


	2. Prologue 2: Reina

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 1: Prologue**

 **Chapter 2: Reina**

"Terrible."

Kumiko put down her euphonium and turned away from her music stand to the doorway, where a short girl with raven-black hair stood.

"That's terrible," the girl repeated, and Kumiko recognized her as Kousaka Reina, the band's ace soloist and trumpet section leader. Why Kousaka Reina was standing here watching her practice euphonium was beyond her.

"You never taper your ending notes," Reina continued, "you play your accents vulgarly like they're just louder notes, and also I don't see a metronome anywhere near you."

Kumiko was too caught off guard to come up with a response, let alone a retort. Shocked, she watched Reina turn away and flip her hair over her shoulder. The beautiful shine of her hair only make Kumiko feel even more intimidated.

Eventually, she managed to croak out, "K... Kousaka-Reina-san?"

Reina glared.

"Why don't you ever practice with a metronome?"

Kumiko's face flushed red as she answered, "Uh... I don't know..."

Reina gave her a look, amethyst-colored eyes flashing with irritation. Then she huffed, "People like you are the reason we never move past prefecturals every year."

Kumiko could only watch in hurt shock as Reina turned and stalked away.

After several seconds of silence, when she was positive that Reina had left, Kumiko slowly reached down into her schoolbag and pulled out her Galaxy S4.

 _People like you are the reason we never move past prefecturals ever year._

Kumiko stared at her music, eyes glazing over as she gawked at the strings of eighths and sixteenths decorated with accents and staccatos. If it were not for last week's incident in the woods, she'd be soaring in the sky right now, not cooped up with her euphonium in a classroom.

Ever since the night she heard footsteps in the woods, Kumiko had stopped her flying ventures and started sleeping with a knife under her pillow. She also started focusing more on euphonium practice with the time she had after school. After all, prefecturals was coming up in two months, and it would be the last round of band competitions for her- and Kousaka Reina's- middle school careers. She needed to get her head in the game.

Eventually, Kumiko unlocked her phone and opened Google Play.

She pulled up the first available metronome app she saw, and hit 'download.'

* * *

The next day after rehearsal, Kumiko retreated to her same old corner to practice the same old competition piece. She had just worked through the toughest of the brass parts, slowing down the sixteenths with a metronome to hone her precision, when Kousaka Reina showed up again. This time, the little principal trumpeter had her instrument with her.

"You always work on just the fast parts," said Reina, fingers drumming on her pearly valves. She leaned over Kumiko to read her sheet music on the stand. "I've never heard you practice the lyrical section."

Reina smelled like jasmine flowers today. Why, Kumiko asked herself, did she notice that? Why was Kousaka Reina even here in the first place?

Terrified, Kumiko swallowed.

"Um..." she started, "you know, lyrical music is just slow notes."

Reina narrowed her eyes.

"You think they're "just slow notes,'" she parroted. "No wonder the low brass never learned vibrato or tapering."

Kumiko couldn't help herself.

"What's tapering?" she blurted. "What are you talking about?"

Reina said nothing. Instead, she lifted her trumpet to her lips and played a line from Kumiko's part, an octave higher than written.

Just like in rehearsal, Kousaka Reina's sound was smooth and rich, even as she played pianissimo whole notes. It was the first time Kumiko had heard Reina play up close like this. She listened carefully, and realized that the way Reina shifted from note to note was what transformed the boring part on the page into beautiful, entrancing music.

Reina finished the line and rested on the final whole note, drawing it out and letting it die away. She let the note bleed ever so slightly into the following measure before melting into silence.

"That's tapering," said Reina, lowering her instrument. "It's when you fade out at the end, instead of chopping off the note like you always do. Got it?"

Slowly, Kumiko nodded. She glanced up at Reina awkwardly, then looked away.

Then she heard Reina say, "Now you do it."

"Wh-what?" stuttered Kumiko.

Reina nodded at the piece on the stand. "Just the last two measures."

Kumiko fumbled to get her euphonium upright, not sure why she was putting up with this. But, wanting to prove Reina wrong about her accusations, Kumiko concentrated and played the two half notes and ending whole note, as requested.

To her surprise, the sound that emerged from her instrument was nothing like what she'd expected. Kumiko felt hyperaware of her deficiencies like never before. As she struggled to fade away with the same grace Reina had demonstrated, she heard her tone thinning. Somehow she couldn't achieve the same result as Reina, who performed her decrescendo without any change in purity.

Kumiko sputtered to a halt at the end of the phrase. She cut off the note roughly, unable to get any quieter.

The look on Reina's face told her everything she needed to know.

That moment was when Kumiko realized just how terrible of a euphonium player she was. She learned that music was not about being just able to play the notes; it was really about how well you could play them. Even as a third-year in middle school, Kumiko knew that she had a long way to go as a musician, and she needed to get there before prefecturals this year.

* * *

Kousaka Reina showed up again the next day, and the day after that.

For some inexplicable reason, her daily interruptions of Kumiko's practice sessions continued non-stop for the next few weeks.

As helpful as Reina could be though, Kumiko was really starting to get sick of it. Why her, of all people? Why was Reina so fixated on some random euphonium player in the band, instead of someone who was actually brilliant like their principal horn player? And why did Reina feel so entitled to tear Kumiko apart every day with her lashing criticism? What was _wrong_ with her?

In any case, Kumiko was done with it. She hadn't gone flying in almost a month now, and was feeling jittery all the time. She was clicking pens in class, tossing and turning in bed, and playing with her food. Being shut up indoors all the time was getting to her, and she was starting to feel trapped all the time. Worst of all, she no longer enjoyed playing euphonium. Ever since Reina started yelling at her all day, Kumiko had become extremely conscious about her own terrible sound and poor musicality, and she now hated her sound. If that was Reina's goal all along- to burn away any joy Kumiko found in playing her instrument- then she'd succeeded.

That evening, after rehearsal, Kumiko headed straight from the Kita middle school to the woods. She'd practiced more than satisfactorily these few weeks, she was sick of being stuck inside all the time, and she'd had enough of Reina telling her what to do.

Tonight's dive into the skies would be her reward.


	3. Prologue 3: Intonation

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 1: Prologue**

 **Chapter 3: Intonation**

"Oumae-san? Did you hear what I said?"

Kumiko snapped out of her trance when Niiyama-sensei's baton gently tapped the podium.

"Y- uh, yes!" she responded, face flushing red. "Sorry."

"That's fine," said Niiyama-sensei with a sweet smile, "but please try to be more engaged as we move closer to prefecturals."

She turned to the rest of the band, and added, "That goes for all of us in the room as well. Everyone onboard?"

The band chorused their agreement as Kumiko looked down at her feet, feeling especially embarrassed because she was not only a third-year, but also the principal player.

The kohai next to her though was gracious enough to say nothing.

Kumiko groaned internally. Truth be told, she had no idea what Niiyama-sensei had just said. It was all her fault; she'd stayed out too late last night flying, this time without her parents' knowledge. Today she'd slept through almost all over her classes. Now her eyes were burning with exhaustion, and it took great effort just to keep her eyelids peeled open.

Drowsily, Kumiko turned the page as Niiyama-sensei instructed the band to move on to _Remember the Molecules,_ their free-choice competition piece.

"Now," said Niiyama-sensei, "what's been our biggest problem with this number so far? I've said this over and over again in rehearsal. Do you remember what it is?"

Kumiko thought about answering in order to make up for being called out earlier. But she couldn't think of anything good to contribute.

Meanwhile, some clarinet player in the front raised his hand.

"Counting?" he volunteered.

 _Counting,_ thought Kumiko. _Ugh. I could've said counting._

Niiyama-sensei raised an eyebrow, and said half-jokingly, "If you still have problems counting to five at your age, I'd be seriously worried about Japan's education system. We would become more and more like the Americans."

The band giggled, and Niiyama-sensei added, "No, I know what you meant, Maebara-san. You meant to say rhythmic accuracy, right? The two are quite different things."

Maebara nodded.

"Well," said Niiyama-sensei, "I don't think you need to be so harsh on yourselves. This ensemble is actually excellent at being where we need to be at the right time. Personally I'm not too concerned about that. Anyone have another answer?"

From the brass section, Kousaka Reina suddenly said, "Clarity and intonation."

 _What's intonation?_ thought Kumiko, confused.

Meanwhile, Niiyama-sensei smiled proudly.

"Yes!" said their proud conductor, tapping her baton on the podium. "Thank you, Kousaka-san. And why are those our biggest problems?"

Her tone of voice indicated that she was probably expecting someone else to answer, but Reina jumped in again.

"Michael Markowski composes with a lot of loud chords," she said.

"That's one way to put it," Niiyama-sensei said, laughing. "Yes, Markowski-sensei's music tends to be very busy, with a lot of voices happening at the same time. Now," she said, "instead of looking at clarity and intonation as two different problems, I want all of you today to pay particular attention to your tuning."

 _Oh,_ thought Kumiko, feeling more and more inferior. _Intonation means tuning. Why didn't I know that before?_

"By fixing our intonation," Niiyama-sensei continued, "we'll also improve our clarity. Now I'd like to have you volunteer your answers," she said, beaming at Kousaka-san, "but we're running short on time. To put it simply, if we listen to each other and play in tune, all the chords in _Remember the Molecules_ will sound cleaner."

Without thinking, Kumiko blurted out, "But why?"

To her horror, she saw Kousaka Reina turn and glare at her, purple eyes flashing.

Niiyama-sensei, however, was much nicer about it.

"Think of it this way," she said. "If Markowski-sensei wrote ten parts happening all at once, and all of us played it off key... then we've technically turned his ten parts into twenty, or even more. In order to make ten parts sound like just ten, we need to be in tune. So, section leaders: in sectionals tomorrow, make sure to have your sections practice listening to each other."

The section leaders chorused together, "Got it!"

Kumiko was a section principal, but she didn't respond like the others. She was too scared to look at anything but her music.

Why was Kousaka Reina so mad at her anyway?

* * *

After rehearsal that evening, Kumiko helped tear down the rehearsal room and stack chairs. Then she slinked away to hole up in a different classroom than usual. That way, Reina wouldn't be able to find her.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to practice right now. On one hand she toyed with the idea of playing the entire piece with a tuner _(Reina would be pleased with her if she did that)_ , but on the other hand... she hated her own sound. She hated herself for being spitty, for cracking her partials, and for not sounding like Kousaka Reina.

Kumiko sighed, and curled up in a chair by the window. In the distance horizon, the autumn sun was beginning to set.

Out of habit, she opened her hand and concentrated, until a little ball of light appeared.

Passing the ball of warm light between her palms, Kumiko slouched back to mull over her problems.

It was all Kousaka Reina's fault. Reina's fault that Kumiko now hated her own playing. Reina had taken away one of Kumiko's favorite hobbies by piling on acerbic criticisms, and why? Just to make herself feel superior? What was Reina getting out of this, anyway?

Just then, the door slid open.

 _Speak of the devil._

Kumiko looked up in shock. Then with a jolt of horror, she realized she was still holding the ball of light. She quickly extinguished it behind her back and swallowed, reaching for her phone.

Reina stepped into the classroom, glaring.

"What was that?"

Kumiko pulled out her phone from her back pocket and tugged at her brown hair as she unlocked it.

"It was just my phone," she said. _Close shave there._ "What are you doing here?"

Reina looked suspiciously at the phone, but went along with the change in topic. "Why weren't you practicing yesterday? Where were you?"

Kumko shrugged. "Eh. I just didn't feel like playing."

Reina's purple eyes widened.

A beat of silence.

Then Reina whispered, "Is that how little you care?"

Kumiko frowned. "What?"

"YOU DON'T CARE AT ALL!" yelled Reina, clenching her fists and stomping on the floor. "Haven't you learned anything at all?! Why are you so stupid?! _What is wrong with you-"_

"You're asking _me_ that?" Kumiko hissed, standing up. Words flew from her mouth. "All you ever do is criticize, you know! You're so mean, and rude, and we're not even friends! What's your damn problem anyway?!"

"I JUST WANT US TO GET TO NATIONALS!" Reina screamed.

Kumiko narrowed her eyes.

"What?" she said, seething. "You seriously think we have a chance at that?"

She was expecting anything at this point- for Reina to scream louder, or start cursing, or even to even try and hit Kumiko.

But to Kumiko's surprise, Reina looked... hurt.

The black-haired girl stepped back, staring at Kumiko for what seemed like an eternity within a second.

Then she ran out of the classroom, and Kumiko heard her crying down the hallway.

Kumiko sat back down and unlocked her phone, scrolling through her apps without tapping anything and rolling her eyes over how melodramatic that was. Kousaka Reina was insane. At least now she might not come and bother Kumiko every day to drive her insecurity and self-doubt deeper. There was no reason to feel guilty about what she'd blurted in front of Reina; Kumiko was just sticking up for herself. Reina was absolutely in the wrong here. Kumiko was the victim. Reina was the one being cruel.

But if Kumiko were forced to be honest with herself right now, she wasn't doing a very good job convincing herself of the above.

She felt a little, little, tiny bit bad.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _Thanks for reading! Also you should check out Michael Markowski's piece,_ Remember the Molecules! _It's seriously an awesome piece that sounds really cool and powerful but also gentle and ethereal. Take a listen! (I played it in high school :D )_


	4. Prologue 4: Kitauji

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 1: Prologue**

 **Chapter 4: Kitauji**

 _Accents. Rhythm. Tapering._

 _Clarity and intonation._

 _You think they're just slow notes?_

 _People like you are the reason we never move past prefecturals every year._

Two weeks after her spat with Kousaka Reina, these harsh words still echoed over and over in Kumiko's head.

Though Reina stopped barging in on her practice sessions, Kumiko still felt hyperaware of her faults as a musician, just as badly as when Reina compared their playing for the first time. Kumiko wanted nothing more than to return to the old times, where she could feel content in her simply ability to play a hard passage correctly. But as the days passed without Reina, Kumiko's self-consciousness of her imprecisions only heightened over time.

Eventually, she was forced to admit to herself that there was no going back. Reina had permanently woken her from her spell of ignorance. Struggling to return to her past comfort was now pointless. In order for her to regain satisfaction in playing euphonium, there was only one direction to go: forward.

It was time for Kumiko to start catching up to her new standards.

The first thing she needed to do was to break her old habits. Instead of intermittently playing difficult parts just for the sake of getting them correct once in a blue moon, she started using methodical practice routines. She downloaded drone CDs to practice her just intonation, focused more on long tones than she ever had, and moved her metronome app and tuning apps to the center of her phone's homescreen.

At first her new mentality only affected her methods of practicing euphonium. But soon Kumiko began honing her illumination abilities with the same approach. She learned that if she trained herself to focus on her powers in the right way, she could do more than just make glowing spheres of light.

By the time Kita middle school was just about ready to hit prefecturals, Kumiko had learned to change the colors of her lights, as easily as she could switch between partials while playing arpeggios on the euphonium.

Well, perhaps making rainbow light wasn't all that impressive. But with each small trick she figured out, Kumiko felt a low thrill. She realized that deep down, she knew that was she was capable of powerful things. Powerful, amazing things that she could not even fathom of at this point.

Through music, Kumiko began to grasp that the only way she would ever discover her true self, or learn of her purpose and origin, was to practice her skills with patience.

She had to grudgingly admit to herself that it was all thanks to Kousaka Reina.

* * *

After rehearsal, Kumiko made her way to Niiyama-sensei's office and knocked on the door, holding the permission slip for prefecturals that their conductor had handed out today.

Niiyama-sensei welcomed her in with a smile.

"Oumae-san?" she said. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes," said Kumiko. "I was just wondering if I could have an extra day to get my permission slip signed. My parents are visiting my grandparents in America, and won't be back until Wednesday."

"Of course," said Niiyama-sensei sweetly. "You're clear as long as I have your papers by Friday."

"Thanks," said Kumiko, and bowed. "I'll get them in before then."

She was about to leave when Niiyama-sensei asked, "Wait- your grandparents live alone in America, but your parents live in Japan?"*

"Oh- yeah," grinned Kumiko. "My parents are actually foreigners from America. So yeah, I'm adopted."

Niiyama-sensei looked surprised.

"Wow," she said, with a smile. "Three years I've taught you, and I never knew that. Sorry to pry."

"Eh, it's not a big deal," said Kumiko, waving it off. "I just never brought it up because I thought you might have known already. You know, because they always stamp my forms with katakana seals, instead of kanji."**

Niiyama-sensei's hand flew over her mouth as she laughed. "That explains a lot!"

Kumiko was going to thank Niiyama-sensei again so that she could leave, but her teacher then asked, "One more thing, Oumae-san: where are you planning to go for high school?"

"Oh- Kitauji accepted me."

To her surprise, Niiyama-sensei clapped her hands with joy and beamed at her.

"That's fantastic news for Kitauji," she chirped. "Be sure to join their concert band under Hashimoto-sensei! They could use a strong player like you."

"What?" said Kumiko, shocked. "Me?" _A strong player?_

"No need to be humble," said Niiyama graciously, waving her off. "You're our principal euphonium. Plus, I've heard your playing skyrocket these past few weeks. I don't know what you're doing differently, but if you keep this up, you are going to be quite a talent at Kitauji."

Kumiko was stunned. She stood with her mouth open for a few seconds before she remembered where her manners were at, and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for your praise, sensei."

As Kumiko straightened, pride starting to swell in her chest, Niiyama-sensei smiled and said, "What about you, Kousaka-san? Where are you going for high school?"

Kumiko froze.

Oh no. _Oh no._

Petrified, she turned around inch-by-inch.

Somehow, without making any noise, Kousaka Reina had appeared right behind Kumiko.

As if that weren't horrible enough, Reina didn't even spare Kumiko a glance.

Then Reina said quietly, "I'm going to Kitauji."

Kumiko accidentally shrieked like a bat. Everybody in the hallway turned their heads. She took a step back away from Reina, and crashed into a desk.

"Oumae-san!" exclaimed Niiyama-sensei. "Are you alright?"

Kumiko scrambled to recollect her composure, and knocked over an empty trash can in the process.

"I- yes," she said, quickly bending down and tilting the trash can upright. "I just... had a seizure. No! Not a seizure. Like, a bone seizure. In my elbows." To support her claim, she flapped her elbows feebly up and down.

Both Niiyama-sensei and Kousaka-san watched Kumiko awkwardly as she backed away from the trash can. Then she crab-walked around Kousaka-san in a wide circle, never taking her eyes off of the trumpet player.

When she reached the exit, she managed to croak out, "Excuse me."

Then she made a mad dash for the stairs.

Oh god, oh god, _oh god,_ Kousaka Reina was going to Kitauji. Three more years of awkward evasive maneuvers in the halls, of getting yelled at by psycho trumpet, and being glared at in rehearsal. Oh god, no. And worst of all, Kitauji was the only high school that Kumiko's test scores allowed her to attend. As she ran out of the school, Kumiko began seriously thinking about not going to high school, and perhaps working in a maid cafe for the rest of her adult life. Yes. That would do.

Back in Niiyama-sensei's office, Reina said, "What's a bone seizure?"

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** *I don't know about western families, but for grandparents to live in a different country than the parents (if none of them are immigrants) would be extremely unusual for an East Asian family. (I'm Chinese-Japanese American.)_

 _**Name seals are used for signing a lot of documents in Japan and are a super-important item to have as a functioning adult. Japanese people would normally have kanji names, but long-term residing foreigners get seals with their names in katakana (Japanese alphabet)._


	5. Prologue 5: Prefecturals

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 1: Prologue**

 **Chapter 5: Prefecturals**

Dud gold.

It was the best score that Kita middle school had received at prefecturals in Kumiko's three years of concert band. The entire ensemble was celebrating, leaping in the auditorium and hugging each other. Niiyama-sensei was speaking brightly with a few other third-years, and the low brass section pulled Kumiko in for a group cheer.

The only downside of a dud gold* was that Kita middle school wouldn't be advancing to regionals, but no one seemed to mind. The third-years were especially elated to have simply moved beyond earning silver, Kumiko herself included.

When the ceremony concluded, the students, teachers, and family members in the auditorium poured into the lobby, cheering or crying or posing for photos. Lines for the bathrooms and for the cafe areas grew ridiculously large- which was unfortunate, because Kumiko's stomach was rumbling. But the lines for food were really scarily lengthy, winding for yards and yards, and she didn't want to wait that long. Maybe there were other food options in the building.

Kumiko made her way upstairs in search of vending machines. It wasn't hard to find them; there were a row of them lined up in a hallway on the second floor, filled with drinks and snacks. But since everyone was at the cafe, there was no one at the vending machines.

Kumiko pulled out her purse. She fished out some coins, and was about to insert them when she heard a girl crying quietly in the distance.

Concerned, she put the coins away and tip-toed toward the direction of the sniffing sounds. It was coming from behind the last vending machine in the row.

Right as she was two steps away from the sobbing girl, Kumiko caught a familiar whiff of jasmine-scented perfume. And then she immediately knew who was sitting behind that vending machine.

Kumiko was about to turn on her heels, but second thoughts made her stop to reconsider. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Reina would probably just scream at her. It wasn't as if Kumiko had never experienced that. She recalled what Reina had said the last time they yelled at each other: _"I JUST WANT US TO GET TO NATIONALS!"_

Truthfully, Kumiko felt a bit bad for her. She'd never seen anyone else that determined to get to nationals. As third-years, their last chance to do so at Kita middle school had now come to an end.

She approached Reina carefully, her heart pounding with fear.

When Reina lifted her head and saw Kumiko standing in front of her, her teary purple eyes dilated in shock for a moment before she buried her head back in her knees.

"What do _you_ want?" she mumbled, voice muffled.

Kumiko swallowed.

"Kousaka-san..." she started, hesitating, "I..."

Reina looked up again, wiping her eyes with her blazer sleeve.

"You expected this, didn't you?" she murmured.

Kumiko didn't know what to say. Because Reina wasn't wrong.

Reina put her head back down.

"Get away from me," she whispered. "Go and celebrate like the others."

Kumiko sighed at Reina's cold response, and turned to leave. Mid-step, she changed her mind. Standing still for several seconds, she pinched the hems of her pleated skirt, wrestling with her emotions. Everything about their history, combined with Reina's body language, said to leave her alone... yet something about the situation begged Kumiko to stay. A feeling that she couldn't quite pinpoint, but was just strong enough to hold her from retreating.

Another moment of indecision, and then she went back to Reina, slowly sinking down next to her on the floor.

The two of them sat in silence for several minutes as Kumiko apprehensively watched Reina's shoulders shake with sobs.

Eventually Kumiko spoke.

"We can always try for nationals in high school," she said softly. "Since we're both going to Kitauji, you know?"

To Kumiko's surprise, Reina only sobbed harder.

"It's all over now," she moaned, hugging her knees tighter and clenching her fists. "It's over."

Confused, Kumiko uttered, "No- we still have three more years, Kousaka-san."

When Reina didn't respond, she continued, "You can always keep doing band in high school. Niiyama-sensei said that Hashimoto-sensei is really good, and Kitauji goes to nationals almost every year. In fact, I think you're even more likely to go to nationals once you join band at Kitauji-"

"-SHUT UP!" Reina suddenly shouted. Kumiko watched with fright as Reina pushed herself to her feet and mopped tears from her face, her raven-black hair a mess. "SHUT UP! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND _ANYTHING!"_ screamed Reina, hiccuping with sobs. _"IT'S OVER NOW!"_

 _What do you mean?_ Kumiko wanted to ask.

But Reina had already taken off, darting away toward the stairwell at the end of the hall.

Kumiko didn't pursue. She got the sense that she should have been angry, or scared, or offended by Reina's reaction. Yet now all she felt was confusion about what exactly Reina meant.

 _What does she mean, 'it's all over now?'_

* * *

That night, after the bus ride back to Kitauji and taking a taxi to her empty home, Kumiko went straight to bed without practicing her lighting powers. She was so exhausted from the day's competition that she passed out almost the moment her head touched the pillow, and fell asleep in her school uniform.

In her dreams, she saw unending light, brilliant and blazing white, and knew it was the sun. She saw herself melting into the light, becoming part of the glow.

Kumiko woke up the next morning with no memory of her strange dream.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading! This concludes the prologue section of _Angels in the Architecture. _Onward to the next section!_


	6. Molto Ritmico 1: One Year

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

* * *

 **This is the second part of the fic. It has its own set of tags and warnings. Please read carefully :)**

 **TAGS FROM AO3:** Kumirei (Kumiko x Reina), Takihashi (Taki x Hashimoto), Cute!Kumirei, Dark!Takihashi, Protective!Kumiko, Conductor!Hashimoto

 **TRIGGER WARNINGS FROM AO3:** foster care, canon divergence, violence, child abuse, major character death

* * *

The following 34 chapters contain **links** to concert band music and my artwork related to this fic, but FF won't let me embed them like AO3 does. A lot of these links are broken. For the best reading experience, **I VERY STRONGLY RECOMMEND READING THIS FIC ON AO3.** You're missing out. Really.

 **archiveofourown, org/works/11153319**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: One Year**

Kousaka Reina stood in her living room, fists clenched as she did her best to stay calm. She did not spend hours rehearsing this conversation in front of her bedroom mirror just so she could give up now.

"One year," she said, voice cracking. "Please."

The priest's reply was everything she expected.

"You made this deal yourself." His expression remained infuriatingly serene, as always. "I let this continue for three years. You promised to stop if you didn't move past prefecturals, and it's important to be a person of your word. Isn't it, now?"

Reina started to panic at the shift in tone near the end, but reassured herself that she was too important. They needed each other with equal criticality. Her life and her cooperation were both valuable enough to be used as bargaining chips for her own interests. As long as this held true, she could push further. _Hold your ground. Don't give up._

"I like playing in band," she said, swallowing. "I like it. It makes me happy. I'll work harder if I'm happy. Remember what I was like when you found me?"

Silence. Reina easily saw through the muteness and knew she was likely to win this one. After all, she was only asking for one more year.

Eventually, the answer came:

"One more year," the priest conceded, and it took every ounce of self-control for Reina not to burst into a smile on the spot. "But work takes precedence over any of your rehearsals this year," he added. "If I schedule anything, you won't go to rehearsal, and you will come straight home to the best of your ability."

Reina opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted.

"This is non-negotiable. We are running out of time, and I hope you don't forget what our real problems are. Will you accept the deal or not?"

The words "best of your ability" allowed for a reasonable amount of wiggle room. so Reina knew that t his was as good as it was going to get. She had no other choice, or she'd lose everything.

"I accept," she said, and the pact was sealed with a flare of burning heat. All in all, she did a pretty good job today, and felt pleased with herself.

As she said her thanks and turned to go back to her room, she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't forget what happens," the priest warned softly, "if you disobey."

Reina met his blue eyes with her own and nodded her understanding.

When she made it back to her bedroom and closed the door behind her, she finally allowed herself to break into a proud smile.

 _I'll be back. I'll make it right this time._


	7. Molto Ritmico 2: Hot Sauce

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 2: Hot Sauce**

Sunlight streamed in through a large window next to Hashimoto Masahiro, who sat at a booth and squinted at the weekend brunch menu in front of him. The bright noon light made the text hard to read. Elbows resting on the table, the band director adjusted his blue-rimmed glasses and thoughtfully rubbed the slight scruff on his chin.

The decision before him was indeed a difficult one. Pancakes, or waffles?

Hashimoto paused his contemplation when he heard a familiar woman's voice sounding through the bustle of the cafe, coming from the front entrance. Ah, that would be Niiyama Satomi-chan.

"Hello, I'm meeting someone," he heard Niiyama say to a waitress. "Did you see a brown-haired hobo come in with hipster glasses who hasn't shaved in a week? Wearing a disgusting pink shirt with yellow and green triangles on it?"

Hashimoto rolled his eyes and made a face. Before Niiyama could insult him further, he stood up from his booth and waved until he got her attention.

As she approached, Hashimoto said, "Why are you always doing this to me, Nyanyama-chama?"

"Doing what?" said Niiyama, taking a seat.

"Embarrassing me in public," said Hashimoto, pretending to sulk.

"I don't do any of that," said Niiyama with a straight face. She set her bag to the side and placed a folder on the table. "You do that yourself when you get dressed every morning. I just narrate."

"It's called 'having a unique style,'" said Hashimoto defensively, while a waitress came and handed Niiyama a menu. Niiyama thanked her and flipped open the menu, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Whatever you say, Chopsticks-kun." (*)

They ordered coffee, and Hashimoto managed to convince Niiyama to order pancakes so that he could get waffles.

"That way we can share them," he said. "It's a good deal for both of us."

Niiyama smiled and rolled her eyes, but agreed.

Once the waitress finished taking their orders and left, Hashimoto turned to Niiyama and folded his arms on the table.

"Congratulations on gold at prefecturals this year," he offered, diving into the focus of today's annual brunch. "Highest rating so far in your five years of teaching. You're doing a good job with your kids."

It was true; Niiyama was the best thing in ten years to happen to Kita middle school's band program. Before she became the band's director, Kita was in shambles. They never scored higher than bronze at prefecturals for almost ten years before Niiyama's arrival. But under her ongoing tutelage, the students were starting to shape up into a real contenders for Kansai.

"Thanks," said Niiyama, inclining her head. "Wouldn't have happened without your tips and hints over the years."

Hashimoto waved it off as he sipped his coffee.

"Nah," he said. "If my tips were that good, Kitauji should have qualified for Nationals this year."

Niiyama grimaced lightly as she said, "Well... it was only once. You've taken them to nationals for almost every year before this, right? Except your first year teaching."

Hashimoto put down his mug and ran a hand through his hair.

"We had a weak trumpet and trombone year," he said, sighing. "It happens. Sometimes you get a section with no third-years at all, and you just have to deal with it."

Niiyama nodded understandingly. "What about your flutes?"

"Flutes were fine as usual," said Hashimoto, "just not enough to make up for the brass. Clarinets were a disaster, but it's been that way at Kitauji since the dawn of time. They don't matter anyway as long as our repertoire hides them under the flutes and trumpets."

For Kitauji, having a weak trumpet section was a rare phenomenon. The high school band was famous within the All-Japan Band Association for always showing up with impressive brass and flute sections. These two sections were Kitauji's most reliable bread and butter, while good percussion and reeds were just the icing on the cake. But when Hashimoto had to deal with a trumpet deficiency like this, it made matters more difficult in competitions. At those events, Kitauji faced old-timer judges coming in with long-established high expectations for their brass.

"It's pretty rare for your brass players to fail onstage," said Niiyama. "I don't think this will turn into a trend or anything. You just had a weak year."

"It wasn't all of the brass," Hashimoto corrected, "just trumpets and trombones. And I can see this becoming a downhill trend if we don't get some incoming talent ."

Niiyama smiled at his lamenting and reached for her folder. She flipped it open, tabbing through papers inside, and Hashimoto took that as his cue to pull out his own notepad and pen.

Meanwhile while the waitresses brought their pancakes and waffles, both topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

Niiyama grinned as they prepared to eat.

"Trust me," she said. "You'll love what I have for you this year."

Hashimoto smirked back, and the two of them said their thanks before digging into brunch.

Kita middle school was traditionally one of Kitauji's main feeder schools. Therefore, Hashimoto and Niiyama always met once a year to discuss which Kita band students would potentially be coming to play under Hashimoto's baton. That way Niiyama had an idea of how to prepare her students, and Hashimoto got a picture of what his top players would look like in three years.

Hashimoto listened and took copious notes while Niiyama began introducing her graduating band students. As they ate, she listed the students' strengths and weaknesses, both as musicians and students, and also gave pointers about potential conflicts between particular students. Based on Niiyama's descriptions, Hashimoto figured that he was getting an influx of talented first-years in his clarinet section and in all his brass sections, effectively repairing the damage he saw this year. The only downside was that the incoming flutes were generally just average players, although Niiyama added that might go unnoticed because the graduating piccolo player could cover them in competition.

By the end of their meal, Hashimoto realized with awe that Kitauji could be well-equipped to win gold at nationals by the time these middle school students were third-years.

"You're the best, Satomi-chama," he said, dabbing at whipped cream on his chin with a napkin as the young band director flipped to a different page in her folder. "This is fantastic. Have you met with the elementary directors yet about next year's recruiting?"

"All scheduled for next week," said Niiyama. "I'm not done yet, though. There's one more student I haven't gone over."

Hashimoto nodded slowly and clicked his pen. There had to be a reason Niiyama was saving this for last.

"Her name is Kousaka Reina," Niiyama began, readying the last page in her folder. "Trumpet player, but not just any trumpet player. This is the kind of talent you see once in a lifetime, I kid you not."

Hashimoto started twirling his pen between his fingers. Niiyama was a young teacher, and could be easily impressed, so he took statements like this with a grain of salt.

"What level are we talking?"

Niiyama glanced at her folder, and looked him in the eye.

"She played the entirety of _Queen of the Night_ for me. All of it. Without error."

Hashimoto's eyes widened in shock. The pen in his hand stopped twirling. A middle school student, playing an aria of that difficulty... it was unbelievable.

"And that was one year ago," Niiyama added. "Trust me, she's gotten even better. She could likely beat everyone in your ensemble as a first-year."

"Christ," said Hashimoto, and dropped back against his seat with a grin. "Just what we need. God bless Kousaka Reina."

Then he noticed Niiyama grimacing slightly.

"Bless her indeed," she said. "I saved her name for last so you'd remember to do this, but really, Masahiro-kun: I need you to keep an eye on her."

Frowning, Hashimoto asked, "What's wrong?"

Niiyama sighed.

"I have suspicions that Kousaka-san is being abused at home. "

Hashimoto started to take notes.

"She currently lives with an adoptive single father," continued Niiyama, folding her hands. "I've only just started to see physical signs, but I don't have enough evidence to legally do anything."

All teachers were trained in observing for signs of parental abuse, and required to renew their certifications annually. As Niiyama described what she saw, Hashimoto agreed that it didn't sound good, based on what he knew. He also understood that as a band director, he was in the best position to help Kousaka Reina compared to other teachers. Most teachers only saw their students two or three times a week, for one year. Meanwhile, club advisers saw their students every day for all three years of school. Kousaka-san would be under Hashimoto's care once she joined band at Kitauji.

"I'll do my best," he said, inclining his head. "Thank you for your efforts."

Niiyama bowed back. "You too," she said. "Take good care of her. Maybe with Kousaka Reina, you'll finally get to chug that hot sauce."

Hashimoto groaned, remembering his annual promise to his students. "You know," he said, "the last time I did that was five years ago. And I swear my bowels are _still_ hurting."

Niiyama giggled. "The clip is still on Youtube."

"I still don't know why I continue to offer," he said. "T he chances of my kids winning gold is now way too high, and I'm too old now to keep pouring hot sauce down my throat."

"Oh please," said Niiyama. "You're 30."

"Maybe I'll change it to getting pied or something."

"But the hot sauce makes the return bus trip more interesting!"

"Not for the kids sitting near the onboard toilet."

Niiyama laughed at that, and closed her folder. "Well," she said, "I hope your band can earn your suffering again soon."

Hashimoto smiled. "Me too."

On this, he was sincere.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:** (*) Chopsticks-kun: Hashimoto's nickname is Hashi, which means "chopsticks" in Japanese. I feel like in-universe, his nickname would be "Hashi" because he's a percussionist... and probably drums with chopsticks..._


	8. Molto Ritmico 3: First Day

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 3: First Day**

6:05 AM. Kumiko stood in front of her mirror and adjusted her deep red first-year students' tie, turning and examining her figure in her brand-new sailor uniform. Somehow she had expected to feel a lot more grown-up once she donned Kitauji's brown and gold colors, but she didn't feel or look any different. In the mirror, plain-old Oumae Kumiko stared back at her. Just as awkward and flat-chested as always.

She then turned with her back to the mirror and twisted her head around to examine the changes she had sewn into the top. Unfortunately with Kitauji's sailor-style uniforms, she didn't have a blazer jacket to cover her two zippers. So, Kumiko had hidden the zippers behind long strips of cloth that folded over to cover them, similar to backpack zippers. The result was that her changes weren't glaringly noticable. And if anyone asked, Kumiko could claim that she had a sweating problem and wasn't allowed to wear her summer uniform yet.

Deciding that her zippers were okay, Kumiko swiveled back around and reached for a hairband. As she brushed her hair and began putting it up in a ponytail, she thought about what club to join in high school, now that she was quitting band. Somehow she found herself not caring what she did as long as it meant not having to see Kousaka Reina. _But,_ she thought, as she made her ponytail clean and tight, _if Kousaka Reina does have to see me in the halls or something, I'm going to look fantastic._ On this first day, she was going to present herself with a cool, collected, and impeccably neat look. Then Reina would be too impressed and intimidated to approach her. Yeah. That was the plan.

Kumiko gave her appearance a final glance in the mirror before heading out of her room into the kitchen. At the dining table, her dad sat with the morning's paper, sipping a mug of coffee. He looked up and smiled proudly at his daughter.

"All ready for your first day, Kumi?" he said in English. "Books? Waterbottle? Pencilcase?"

Kumiko nodded. After slipping into her school shoes and grabbing a slice of untoasted bread, she left the house and began her trip to the train station.

While she walked between rows of trees bearing bushels of spring cherry blossoms, Kumiko placed the soft bread between her palms and pressed gently on both sides.

Three seconds later, she was biting into her breakfast. The bread tasted lightly crispy and toasted to perfection.

* * *

"You're not doing band, Kumiko-chan?" said Sapphire- _oops, she said vwanted to be called 'Midori'_ \- as she slammed her palms on Kumiko's desk and leaned forward. "You said you played the euphonium for six years, and now you're not doing band?!"

"Sorry," Kumiko offered, squirming in her seat. "I just... I can't."

"You keep saying that!" said Hazuki, the newbie who for some reason wanted to switch from tennis to trumpet. "What's the big reason? Did something happen in middle school? We'll help you figure out!"

Oh god, these two were hitting it too close to home. Was her poker face really that awful? It were as if Hazuki and Midori saw right through her, even though she'd literally just met these two girls an hour ago. _That's just my luck,_ thought Kumiko. _Of all the new friends I could've made in this entire class, I bump into the two girls who can read minds and want me to join the concert band. Damn it._

"Well," said Kumiko, making up an excuse, "I just want to focus more on my academics this year. That's all."

"Yeah right," Hazuki countered. "You were spacing out and staring at the window for literally all of first period."

"Exactly!" Midori chimed in. "I didn't see you taking notes at all!"

 _Busted,_ thought Kumiko. Hazuki was right; she'd been staring longingly at the skies all morning, knowing that with the start of the new school year, her days of unlimited nighttime flying and sleeping in until two in the afternoon were over.

"At least come with us to check out the club," Hazuki said. "You don't even have to sign up today. Just visit with us."

"Nope," said Kumiko. "No way." There was no way she was going to give in. She was in charge of her own future! She had to make her own decisions! New start, new school, new Kumiko!

* * *

Four hours later, Kumiko stood and slouched outside of the band room with Midori and Hazuki like the easily-swayed loser she was. Several other freshmen were gathered outside, peering in through the windows and watching in awe as the upperclassmen played through chromatically descending arpeggio warm-ups. Conducting the band was a tall, beautiful third-year girl with black hair and red glasses. Many of the freshmen traded whispers about the girl, speculating that she must be the band's president or drum major.

Meanwhile, next to the conducting third-year, the band's director supervised from the side. Kumiko squinted at the band director with some confusion. That must be the Hashimoto-sensei that Niiyama-sensei told them about, but Niiyama-sensei always said that Hashimoto-sensei was strict and demanding, and was the type of person not to suffer fools. Yet the thirty-something-looking man watching over his band seemed nothing short of a hipster clown. The brown-haired teacher was wearing a ridiculous red Hawaiian shirt with a plastic necklace, wore blue glasses that were too big for him, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days. He didn't fit Kumiko's idea of him at all.

Granted, Kitauji's concert band sounded extremely good even while playing simple warm-ups. Maybe Hashimoto-sensei was tougher than he looked.

As Kumiko watched, Hashimoto-sensei looked up and seemed to notice the cluster of first-years at the door, and started in their direction. Everyone scampered away from the window as the band director approached.

When the door slid open, Hashimoto-sensei greeted them with a big smile.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, hands on his hips. "So many of you! We haven't even played for you at recruiting day yet!"

When no one spoke, all of them feeling too awkward to respond, Hashimoto-sensei merely clapped his hands together and continued.

"My name is Hashimoto Masahiro," he said, with a sincere bow, "but feel free to call me Hashimo-chan. I'm the guy who waves a stick around like a maniac while the rest of you do the hard work onstage. Now, why don't you early birds introduce yourselves?"

Kumiko saw Midori and Hazuki grinning at each other. Hashimoto-sensei seemed really friendly.

As they all went down the line and gave their names, middle schools, and instruments, Hashimoto-sensei would often remark about how he'd heard good things about them from their middle school senseis. He seemed especially impressed when Midori told him she was a contrabass from Seijou, remarking on how the band had won silver at Nationals and complementing their bass section.

When it came to Kumiko's turn, she remembered how Niiyama-sensei asked about her going to Kitauji, and hoped that Hashimoto would praise her too.

"I'm Oumae Kumiko," she said meekly, bowing. "I'm a euphonium player from Kita middle school. Nice to meet you."

"Oh, euphonium," said Hashimoto-sensei, nodding. "Very good."

 _That's all?_ , thought Kumiko, aghast. Well, it was another reason for her not to join band. At least Hashimoto-sensei wouldn't remember her if she chose to not return.

Then Hashimoto-sensei turned to Kumiko's left side and asked, "And you?"

 _Wait,_ Kumiko thought. I thought I was the last one in line.

She turned around to see who it was.. and let out a loud gasp of horror. Too late, she recognized the faint smell of jasmine.

To her right, Midori and Hazuki shot her looks of confusion.

"Hello," said the calm trumpet freak to her left. "I'm Kousaka Reina from Kita."

 _How did I not see her? How did I not hear her at all?!_

To make matters worse, Hashimoto-sensei clapped his hands together and said, "Ah, it's Kousaka Reina-san! What an honor to finally meet you. Niiyama-sensei told me all about you! You'll fit right in here at Kitauji."

"I'm glad to hear that," Reina responded quietly.

"I absolutely can't wait to hear you play," Hashimoto-sensei continued, gushing, "so I hope you decide to join us!"

"I will," said Reina politely. "In fact, I'd like to sign up today."

Kumiko made such a loud gagging noise that Hashimoto-sensei side-eyed her _(oh no)_ before beckoning Reina to follow him into the band room. As he did, he turned and said, "None of you have to wait outside! All of you are welcome to come in sit with whatever section you'd like. We're happy to have you here."

Kumiko hesitantly trailed behind the others, but then started when Hazuki grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the room. As Kumiko glanced at the ensemble and at the red-glasses senpai conducting them, she saw the girl watching Hashimoto-sensei with an oddly dark look. Unsure of exactly of what it meant, Kumiko decided that this was a bad sign of internal drama. She needed to leave as soon as possible.

She was about to open her mouth and tell Hazuki of her intentions when she heard Reina say to Hashimoto, "Sensei, can I have a minute? I need to do something before signing up."

Reina then turned around, raven-black hair swishing around her shoulders. Her brilliant purple eyes bore into Kumiko's.

"Oumae-san? I need to talk to you."

Kumiko felt her stomach dropping in horror. All the first-years were staring at them; Hashimoto-sensei, Midori, and Hazuki included. She had no choice but to agree.

Swallowing, she opened her mouth.

"S- sure," she stammered, voice cracking.

Kumiko timidly followed Kousaka Reina out of the band room and into the hallway, feeling everyone's eyes on their backs.

* * *

Kousaka-san led Kumiko all the way from the third floor down the stairs to the first floor. On their lengthy walk, neither of them exchanged any words or looks. Kumiko's heart pounded rapidly with fright all the way. Was Kousaka-san mad again? Was she going to keep yelling at Kumiko for what happened at nationals last year? That had to be it, Kumiko decided grimly, bracing herself. For what else would Kousaka-san be pulling her this far away from everyone?

To Kumiko's surprise, Kousaka-san opened a door leading to an outdoor courtyard at the center of Kitauji's building.

"Can we talk out here?" she said.

Kumiko nodded, her insides plummeting. Their surroundings were eerily ominous. They were far from the sports fields where other clubs were meeting, so there was no one in sight. The sky overhead loomed darkly with clouds, and she heard crows squawking in the trees. For a moment, she had fleeting, frightful thoughts that Kousaka-san had lured her out here to kill her or something.

"Oumae-san?"

Kumiko jumped in terror.

"WHAT?" she squeaked loudly, trembling.

If Kousaka-san found this reaction strange, she didn't show it. Instead, the trumpet player brushed aside a lock of dark hair and said, "Thank you for coming out here. I just wanted to apologize for the things I said last year, before and after prefecturals. I hope you'll still play this year."

Kumiko gawked at Reina like she'd gone crazy.

A short stretch of silence, and then Reina said, "That is all."

When Kumiko didn't respond, Reina's eyes fell to the ground, and she started to leave.

At that moment, right as Reina passed where Kumiko stood, something inside Kumiko stirred. This was not right. In that instant, she realized why she had been so terrified of seeing Reina. It wasn't just because of her fear of Reina's criticisms and outbursts, but also because she knew she had said some acerbic things to Reina as well. If Kumiko were to be honest with herself, what she was really afraid of was her own guilt for triggering explosive reactions from Kousaka-san, and she was terrified of admitting it to herself- especially because she had walked away from Reina's tongue-lashings with not less, but more. Reina had left Kumiko with the knowledge of how to improve, how to strive. And what had Kumiko left Reina with? Nothing but tears.

But now Reina had laid it out bare that she regretted her harshness, and what had Kumiko done? Stand there with her mouth agape like an idiot.

She understood now that just because Reina apologized to Kumiko did not mean Kumiko would be able to face Reina and join band without guilt. If Kumiko truly desired the fresh start she wanted with high school, she had to make it up to Reina on her end.

Kumiko spun around.

"KOUSAKA-SAN!" she yelled, and Reina stopped in her tracks before reaching the door. "Wait!"

Reina turned, and now Kumiko started to panic. She didn't know what to say, or how to say it.

"Um," she started, struggling for words, "I'm sorry too." Then she bowed deeply and awkwardly, immediately straightening back up to continue. She needed to get this out as quickly as possible. "I was kind of mean too," she sputtered. "And I want you to know that I improved a lot because of what you said. I know you were annoying when you bust in all the time- NO!" _No, that wasn't how she wanted that to come out!_ Kumiko clapped her hands over her mouth and her eyes widened. "I mean," she choked, "you came around a lot, but everything you said was true and it helped a lot. And now you've left marks on me forever." _No, no, no! That sounded weird and creepy!_ "But yeah," finished Kumiko lamely. "Yeah. Sorry. And thanks for listening."

She lowered her eyes, and had the feeling that Kousaka-san was looking at her like she'd gone mad. Deciding that it was time to scram, Kumiko broke into a sprint, flung the door open, and ran all the way down the hall back to the stairwell.

Kumiko took a moment to catch her breath when she reached the second floor. She held on to the wall and panted in exhaustion, shaking all over.

Yes, she felt stupid for saying all that to Kousaka Reina. Yes, her face was flushed red, and yes, she had no desire to know what Kousaka Reina now thought of her. But despite all this, a smile slowly spread across her face. For some reason, she was happy to have released all of her thoughts out aloud. It was as something within her had finally come untangled and free, and she knew that despite whatever happened from now as a result, she would have no regrets about her decision today.

Grinning, Kumiko slowly made her way back to the band room.

Today she was going to sign up for the Kitauji Concert Band.

Meanwhile, back in the courtyard, Reina had not budged. But on her red-tinged face was a simpering smile as Oumae Kumiko's words echoed in her head.


	9. Molto Ritmico 4: Connecting Phrases

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 4: Connecting Phrases**

Kumiko quickly found that joining band at Kitauji demanded for greater commitment than previously required at Kita. The internal hierarchy within Kitauji's renowned wind band was a highly-mobile system of meritocracy. Traditionally, the entire ensemble participated in four blind auditions every school year- once to determine part assignments for the Sunrise Festival, a second time to divide the full ensemble into A and B competition bands for prefecturals, and then two other times to reassign seats for the Kansai regional and All-Japan competitions. Any earned seat could be lost on any audition. But at the same time, any player had the chance to advance themselves, regardless of their current standing or year in school.

The first of these auditions was scheduled extremely early in the school year and also notoriously difficult- not because the music was too complicated, but rather because each section was given an enormous packet of excerpts to prepare to a competitive level within a very short time. Kumiko heard from other band members that it was Hashimoto-sensei's way of weeding out the slow learners from the fast ones, as well as deciding which players had the best sense of teamwork.

"I can see why he'd want that," said Midori to Kumiko, after their second day of band orientation. "Sometimes people who are really talented join the band, and they can play all the notes perfectly in _Flight of the Bumblebee_ , but they fail on the excerpts."

"Why?" said Hazuki, flipping through the large audition packet the tuba section received. "'Excerpts' are just bits of music pulled from band parts, right? These look pretty easy."

"Exactly," said Midori. "They get tricked into thinking that."

"Really?" Kumiko interjected, looking at her own euphonium packet. Hazuki had a point; most of the music chosen by Hashimoto-sensei seemed quite simple, consisting of accompaniment parts or lyrical solos, such as the euphonium solo from Holst's First Suite in F. Kumiko had already played most, if not all of these, in middle school. These excerpts seemed quite far-removed from the level of music Kitauji normally tackled for competitions.

"It's not going to be easy," Midori insisted. "We used to do this at Seijou. When you play excerpts, you can't just think about yourself. You have to think about how your part fits in with the whole band. Like for you," she said, taking Hazuki's audition packet and flipping to a page with boring-looking quarter notes, "Hashimoto-sensei isn't going to judge you for wrong notes, because everyone'll probably do that. You know, since we only have a few days to prepare."

"Then what's he looking for?" Hazuki asked. "Aren't you supposed to just not make mistakes?"

"Well, you'll lose points here if you drag behind the tempo, or if your beat isn't steady," said Midori, "because your job in the band during this part is to keep the tempo going. That's the most important thing there. But it's different for every excerpt. So you don't have to be talented; Hashimoto-sensei just wants good team players."

 _I'll work harder,_ thought Kumiko, _just for these few days_. Flying expeditions and lighting practice could wait until after auditions were over. After all, it didn't matter if she were successful at learning how to create flames if people wouldn't know _(if Reina wouldn't know),_ so she resolved to aim for success in something she could actually take credit for.

That night Kumiko set four alarms and lay in bed, glowing with pride that she had taken some sort of initiative to work harder in high school by setting those alarms. Of course, came morning Kumiko ended up pressing the snooze button for all four alarms, and eventually her mother barged into her room and yelled at her to stop. After that Kumiko nearly dozed straight back to sleep. But despite the odds, she managed to drag herself to Kitauji high school at six AM sharp, ready to practice.

She'd settled herself with her new euphonium in an empty classroom near the band room, just beginning to work through the first of the audition excerpts, when the door behind her slid open.

Kumiko sputtered and paused in her playing as Kousaka-san strolled in, carrying her trumpet. Her purple eyes regarded Kumiko's audition packet with mild curiosity as she parked herself on top of a desk beside Kumiko.

"Holst?"

Kumiko nodded and swallowed. Was Reina here to criticize again? Or maybe here to continue their cringeworthy exchange from the other day? In any case, she started mentally grasping for excuses to leave the room so she wouldn't have to deal with Kousaka-san's intensity any longer.

But all Reina offered was, "Maybe you could try connecting the phrases." The trumpet player leaned forward, black hair cascading over Kumiko's shoulder and sweeping jasmine scent around her, and pointed at the sheet music. "Here, between these measures," said Reina gently. "You always break the solo into two-measure phrases even though all the others are four measures long."

A little shocked by how friendly Kousaka-san was being, Kumiko hesitated before replying.

"How do you know the other phrases are supposed to be four measures?"

"Because of where Holst wrote the connectors for the rest of the brass," said Reina, straightening. Her flowing locks brushed against Kumiko, who had the sudden fleeting urge to run her fingers through Reina's hair. Kumiko ignored the weird impulse and tried to focus as Reina explained the significance of connecting phrases and how it might impact Hashimoto's judgment of Kumiko's playing, but she was too distracted by the shock of how kind and helpful Reina was being mixed with the churn of unanswered questions whirling in her mind.

"Did you get all that?" said Reina, wrapping up her explanation.

It took Kumiko a second to realize it was a question and that a reaction of some sort was required.

"Y- yeah," she said, probably unconvincingly. "Got it. Mhmm."

Reina raised an eyebrow at her. Before she could say anything, Kumiko blurted out, "Ne, Kousaka-san? Why did you say 'it was over' last year if you're still doing band now?"

She had to ask. She had to ask now, or there might not be another chance to clear up why Reina had yelled at her because it would be too far down the road, too removed from their mutual apologies from the other day. By then such a question would no longer be pertinent or acceptable.

Hesitating at Kumiko's abrupt change of subject, Reina seemed to dither for a moment. Kumiko started to panic, wondering if her boldness would trigger another outburst from the trumpet player and destroy their temporary peace.

"Well," Reina said eventually, "it was a family thing. I made a deal with my stepdad to stop playing in high school if we didn't make nationals, but he changed his mind. So it's okay now."

 _A deal?_ thought Kumiko. _What kind of a deal is that?_

"Why didn't he want you to play in band?" she pressed.

"Just my grades," answered Reina- almost too quickly. "He was just worried about me."

Kumiko's gut feeling told her that the situation wasn't right. Then she remembered something bizarre.

"Weren't you the valedictorian in middle school?" she said. "You gave this speech and everything at graduation."

Reina's face flushed slightly pink.

"W-well," she said, "he was just really worried."

 _Wow. She's a terrible liar for someone who's so intense all the time,_ thought Kumiko, taken aback by how transparent Reina's poker face was, even worse than her own. But maybe this shouldn't be much of a surprise; perhaps it was simply the other facet that came with being a brutally honest person.

Kumiko continued, "So you're at least allowed to stay in band in high school now, right?"

Reina's cheeks were still tinged with a gentle blush.

"Mostly," she said, voice faltering slightly.

Kumiko was about to inquire what Reina meant by 'mostly'- but then the warning bell for first period sounded.

Reina seemed to be relieved as she bid a curt goodbye and darted out of the room, timid like Kumiko had never seen her. It was a alarming side of Reina that Kumiko never presumed could exist in Kousaka Reina- the cold, talented, indignant lone-wolf of a trumpet player. But then it also begged the question of what was going on in her home that could cause someone like Reina to scamper at the slightest prying. 

* * *

_Feel free come to my office if you have any questions about the audition in two days,_ Hashimoto-sensei had said during their first ensemble meeting after school. _Just make sure to only bring questions that your section leaders can't answer._

Desperate to make a better impression on her new band director than on day one _(god, she'd been so embarrassing that day, making weird noises)_ , Kumiko spent all day in class secretly mulling over her audition packet, grasping for with a good question to take to Hashimoto-sensei about her excerpts. She was determined to approach him with something profound and thoughtful that would make the band director stumble, and then after that she would blow everyone out of the water with her audition scores. Yeah. That was the plan. Kumiko was bent on starting her high school band path on the right foot.

After school, she got in line with Midori-chan and the rest of the band students queuing up outside of Hashimoto-sensei's office, clutching her sheet music with sweaty palms. She heard other students in line gossiping about how the clarinet section potentially faced drastic re-rankings this year since the Kita freshmen proved to be ridiculously talented. Other students were trash-talking the clarinet and trumpet seniors, and some were simply wondering which excerpts Hashimoto-sensei would pick from the packet for the audition.

"Wait," said Kumiko, just now reacting to what she'd heard. "We don't have to play all the excerpts?"

"Nope," Midori affirmed with a bright smile. "But that makes it harder, because you have to know everything really well. Even if he only calls two excerpts out of fifteen."

"I actually like that better," said Kumiko. "So the audition isn't be as long." Honestly, she wasn't the type to get particularly nervous on auditions, but the way Kumiko saw it, a shorter audition meant a smaller chance of messing up. The longer she had to play, the greater the window for potential error.

"Uh, it's not so good for us," Midori said. "The upperclassmen are already familiar with Hashimoto-sensei and his preferences, so they're more likely to guess what he'll ask for on the audition. But first-years just have to learn everything really well."

 _Oh, true._ Midori had a good point. Kumiko sheepishly realized that she hadn't considered this before. But all it meant was that she had to work harder, and that in itself was nothing new. In the next two days, she would push herself with every minute of practice, just like Kousaka-san always did.

Soon it was Midori's turn to consult Hashimoto-sensei, who greeted her with a large smile. The band director's usual scruff had been shaved to a five-o-clock shadow, and he was lounging in a swivel chair beside a desk piled high with sheet music, paperwork, and snack wrappers.

"Kawashima-san!" he said. "Our one and only contrabass. So sorry that you don't have a senpai to follow."

"It's okay," Midori answered with a smile, and politely launched into her question about the auditions. Kumiko heard something about bowings and shifting and vibrato, before Hashimoto-sensei told her to emulate the tubas and focus on tuning and rhythm.

"You know, I'm not a string player, so I'm sorry I can't help you more with that," said Hashimoto-sensei. "But don't worry, I'm not as picky as the string orchestra adviser when it comes it technique. All you need to do is be a good team player for the winds. Now, do you know when your instrument is most important?"

 _"Hai,_ I do!" said Midori, squeaky voice so adorable that Kumiko could taste sugar in her mouth. "Contrabass supports the woodwinds in quiet parts."

"Nice answer!" said Hashimoto-sensei cheerfully. "You're basically just a really quiet tuba, without being a contrabassoon. Those sewage pipes sound like indigestion," he quipped. Several students in line giggled. Hashimoto-sensei continued, "So in these excerpts, here and here," he pointed, "I'd like to hear you play with a steady sound. But it's up to your judgment when you use vibrato. Did that answer your question?"

Midori nodded. Hashimoto-sensei beamed brightly at her and finished with, "I can't wait to hear you play! Good luck now. Next!"

Swallowing as Midori left the office, Kumiko approached Hashimoto-sensei, gripping her sheet music with sweaty palms.

"Hello, thank you for your instruction," she greeted meekly. "I was just wondering, in these parts with staccato marks over the slurs, do you want us to slur or tongue the-"

But Hashimoto-sensei waved her off before she'd even finished her question.

"Eh, go find Tanaka-senpai," he said dismissively. "She's the principal eupho. Wears red glasses. She can tell you all about portato. Next!"

Midori glanced at her sympathetically and offered a few words of consolation that Kumiko barely heard. She drifted out of the office to make room for the next student, then slumped against the wall in a daze. Just like that, Hashimoto-sensei had quickly rid himself of her, even though Kumiko's question was one that Niiyama-sensei would have patiently explained. Truly Kitauji was on an entirely different level than Kita middle school.

Once again, Kumiko feebly reaffirmed to herself that she would simply counter today's failure by working hard. She told herself that her audition results two days later would make up for the disappointment, unaware of what was to come.


	10. Molto Ritmico 5: Sweet Potato

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 5: Sweet Potato**

Hashimoto made his way through the trembling crowd of students, which immediately parted for him, and taped the paper listing audition results and rankings to the chalkboard. From his past experience, it was not a good idea to stay at school while the students learned of their scores, so he turned tail and strode quickly back to his office.

Once he reached the door, Hashimoto collapsed in his swivel chair, grimacing. He'd felt terrible all day since he dropped off Niiyama's cat, Sweet Potato, at the vet this morning. For the first half of the day, he suffered through a stomachache so painful that he had to sit down when delivering his music class lecture. Now it had mellowed to a vague nauseous pulsing in the back of his throat.

All things said, Hashimoto was just grateful that he hadn't actually puked in class. That alone would have been embarassing enough to ruin his teaching career for life.

Meanwhile, chaos exploded behind him in the music room as his kids discovered their results. Hashimoto sighed in annoyance. Every single audition at Kitauji inevitably led to screaming and moaning and crying. He swore the amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth in the band room was more than Satan himself had heard in all of hell.

 _They'll understand one day,_ he told himself. And it was true; third-years and college students were typically more calm about audition results than underclassmen. They knew that somebody had to come out on top and somebody had to be last chair. That was just a fact of life. Hashimoto tried to be as forgiving as he could- which was why he allowed four auditions a year and enforced a rotational seating system, so that nobody was last chair for long- but the kids still complained. They still lined up outside his office to argue and sob and yell.

Which was why on days like these, Hashimoto went home early. The kids needed the time to calm down, and he needed some peace and quiet.

But today, aside from that and his piss-poor health, Hashimoto had an even more pressing reason to leave. He picked up the last folder from his desk, containing paperwork and veterinary information for Niiyama's calico cat. Sweet Potato had been extremely ill for the past few days, culminating in a vomiting episode early this morning that let to Niiyama begging Hashimoto to help take Sweet Potato to the vet. Hashimoto had agreed, since Niiyama had to be at school extremely early this morning for a staff meeting, when the vet wasn't open yet. For Hashimoto, the vet was on his way to work, so he was happy to help now.

Then, this morning, he immediately felt sick after handling the cat. Now he was suspecting that Sweet Potato was contagious. That though was still an unsatisfactory explanation, because Niiyama showed no signs of illness even though her cat had been sick for days. But it was the best diagnosis for his own misery that Hashimoto could come up with.

Slinging his work bag over his shoulder and carrying the folder, Hashimoto shut and locked his office door, then headed downstairs. In the stairwell he passed the eupho-girl who looked like an ice-cream scoop- _what was her name? Ah, right, Oumae Kumiko_ \- curled up against the wall, staring blankly into space as if she'd just returned from a traumatizing war zone.

"More audition drama," he muttered under his breath, and continued down the stairs.

Unfortunately he heard Oumae erupt into tears behind him, and regretted it. _There she goes._ Everybody was crying, because everything was Hashimoto Masahiro's fault, and _christ,_ he just wanted to go pick up Satomi-chan's dying cat from the vet right now. He just wanted to go home, take advil, and stop feeling like utter shit.

At the bottom of the stairs he ran into the virtuoso first-year, Kousaka Reina, who was apparently late to the dramatic unveiling of results.

"Hey kid," said Hashimoto, pulling Kousaka aside, "have you seen the scores yet?"

The girl shook her head, so Hashimoto decided to save her the trouble.

"Congratulations," he muttered quietly, "on earning principal trumpet. Now, it would be wise to avoid the band room today. Let's just say that there are some upperclassmen who need time to adjust the new rankings."

Kousaka bowed politely. "Thank you," she said. "I understand."

"One more thing," Hashimoto added. "You play like a champ, but you're new to Kitauji. So you're principal, but Nakaseko-san will be section leader. She'll take care of admin duties while you play all first parts and solos. This is bound to cause some talk, but I think it's best for the band and best for you. Do you have any questions?"

Kousaka shook her head, then thanked him again. Hashimoto smiled and whacked her lightly on the head with his folder before carrying on to the parking lot...

...wherein it became apparent that he'd forgotten his car keys in his office.

Swearing mentally, Hashimoto did a 180 and strode angrily back toward the building. Why, today, on all days, did he have to make a _second_ trip up three flights of stairs to his godforsaken office... _why..._

But when he passed the same stairwell where Oumae sat sulking, he now saw Kousaka sitting with her, speaking in low tones. Kousaka's hand was caressing Oumae's bright red cheeks. Knowing that he was intruding on a rather intimate moment, Hashimoto continued without comment, but their conversation made him pause at the top of the stairs where he was out of sight.

Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. But what Hashimoto heard made him feel very proud to have these two kids in his band, and he wanted to know more.

"A good musician would look toward the future now," Kousaka was saying. "Learn from your weaknesses."

A few moments of silence, broken by Oumae's hiccuping sobs, before the euphonium player stammered, "You're p-principal trumpet now. And I'm... I'm last chair. I shouldn't e-even be around you... it'll look..."

"What?" said Kousaka.

Oumae sniffed.

"People would think... that I'm... not worthy of you," she whispered. "You shouldn't b-be seen with me."

A quiet huff of laughter from Kousaka. Then she said, "When have I ever cared about other peoples' opinions?"

"Y-you cared so much about what I said in middle school that you avoided me f-for an entire trimester."

"Well, you're not other people."

"Kousaka-san-"

"Reina," corrected Kousaka. "Call me Reina."

A pause. Then Oumae mumbled, "Okay. Reina."

Another stretch of silence, before Kousaka said softly, "Can we walk instead of sit here? I need to go home soon, or my stepdad won't be happy."

There was a brief shuffling as the two girls stood up, and Hashimoto knew it was time to leave. Standing on his feet for that long had brought back his stomachache, so he needed to go home soon.

He'd only heard a few words during their exchange, but it was enough to tell him a lot about their personalities. Firstly, he felt that Kousaka's words to Kumiko were quite wise. With that knack like that for giving advice, combined with her unbelievable level of musicianship, she'd made a killer section leader in three years. That is, if she could acquire better teamwork skills and improve from what Hashimoto had heard she was like.

As for Oumae, the more Hashimoto he learned about her, the more he liked the kid. At first she'd seemed quite plain- just another euphonium player entering high school. But she'd showed up to his office with a question, even though most of the other first-years were too fearful to approach him. And he constantly heard the girl practicing before classes every morning, though her audition had been a let-down. But it was undeniable that the girl was a hard worker.

Now, from what he heard her saying, he knew Oumae was also thoughtful and considerate.

Kids like them were Hashimoto's favorite part of his teaching job. He would never say this out loud, but he cared less about his students' ability to play notes on a page, and more about what kind of human beings they became under his tutelage. Above any awards they won each year, he wanted them to gain more important things like kindness, musicianship, and persistence. And with challenges like stage fright, intense competition, and chains of command, the concert band was an ideal place for character building. Hashimoto felt privileged to watch his students grow while overcoming those hurdles.

Meanwhile, the downside of his job was that Hashimoto had to monitor his kids for signs of domestic abuse or neglect. Of course he didn't hate looking out for his kids, but it was sad when things happened that he had no way of preventing.

In his years of teaching, Hashimoto had only dealt with one case of abuse- Tanaka Asuka, whose mother had physically slapped her right before Hashimoto's eyes. Even then, it wasn't anything that he could legally do about besides being there to comfort Asuka.

At Kousaka's mention of her stepfather though, Hashimoto felt the same unease as when Tanaka had come to speak with him about her mother. Kousaka had said nothing more than that her stepfather wanted her to be home on time. For a parent to have expectations of timeliness was nothing strange. But given what Niiyama had told him about Kousaka, it was information to be noted.

* * *

When Hashimoto finally arrived at the vet, paperwork in hand, the veterinarian greeted him with an odd sort of smile before handing him a clipboard.

"Sir, if you'll sign here, Sweet Potato is all ready to be picked up."

"Wait," said Hashimoto, confused, "what kind of treatment did she receive? Is there anything I should know about what medication to buy?"

The veterinarian blinked before saying, "Sir, you brought this cat in today with absolutely no health issues. We weren't sure what you needed from us, so we performed a routine health check. Those regular fees will apply, but there was no medication administered."

Hashimoto frowned. Sweet Potato had been extremely ill for days, and had probably gotten Hashimoto himself infected with some disease. Now the vet was saying the cat arrived feeling fine this morning?

Deciding that Niiyama's cat was probably just very lucky, Hashimoto thanked the confused veteranian and picked up the fuzzy cat, who meowed demurely. As he returned to his car and gently coaxed Sweet Potato into her carrier cage, he thought about how ragged the ailing cat had appeared in the morning. He wondered what could have caused her to feel better so quickly.

Well, at least Niiyama wouldn't have to worry anymore.


	11. Molto Ritmico 6: Televised News

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 6: Televised News**

 _"Kyoto News received further updates today that Nakamura Tomokazu's condition continues to worsen from the island of Masa. Reports indicate that tensions between the six Nakamura heirs are higher than ever, as their father has not released any kind of will, even with his impending death."_

 _"Yes, it's quite a messy situation. Experts are speculating that there might not be a successful transition of power. We could see Masa island could slide into total anarchy following the death of Nakamura-san."_

 _"Meanwhile, relations between Tokyo and Beijing are heating up over the sovereignty of Masa. Both Japan and China are anticipating the imminent fall-"_

"Oh boy, I bet they are," interrupted Kumiko's dad in English, who lounged on the sofa as he watched the evening's news. He started talking enthusiastically over the newscasters. "Kumi, have you been following this story?"

Kumiko glanced over from her spot on the sofa as she stuffed another handful of stale potato chips in her mouth and crunched down on the salty goodness.

"Mmmf, not weally," she muttered through a mouthful of chips. "Why?"

"Well," said her dad, "you should start paying attention to current events as you get older, Kumi hon. It's good to know the world around you. You never know when it might affect you directly."

Kumiko interally rolled her eyes as she chewed loudly. Her dad was such a news freak. And why would a stupid island ever have anything to do with her? Couldn't her dad see that she wasn't in the mood to talk? She'd just planted herself down on the couch with her bag of potato chips and he'd come over to turn on the news and blab about politics.

If it weren't for the violent rain splattering against the window outside, Kumiko wouldn't be here right now. She'd be out there in the woods, soaring through the night sky. From unforunate past experience though, back when she used to be more overconfident about her wings and unknowledgable about meterology... Kumiko knew she wasn't strong enough to handle dangerous typhoon-level winds.

Which was why she was holed up in the living room being a depressed glutton.

This was the thing about having American parents; sometimes they weren't as adept as reading body language as her Japanese peers. Even Hazuki and Midori were more sensitive then her dad. But since she was stuck here anyway until the rain thinned out, Kumiko decided to humor him.

"What's up with Masa?" she said in English, and reached for more chips.

"Masa? Oh man," her dad started- _oh god, this was gonna go on for hours_ \- "Masa is a small island located in between China and Japan. The Nakamura family's been ruling it for decades, but the father's been ill recently and everyone says he has poor relations with his useless sons. Now Japan and China might be competing over who gets to claim the island."

"Eh," Kumiko muttered, crunching on chips. "Why? You said it was small."

"It's small, but it's a huge strategic military and trade location for a country to own," her dad replied, starting to ramble excitedly. "There's a lot of dispute as to who claims it if the Nakamura family falls. The island is nearer to China's landmass, but most of the people living there speak Japanese. In the past the United Nations always recognized it as sovereign, but it's way too small to be an actual country. I think it has a population of 200 people or something tiny like that, which is even less than Vatican City."

"Really?" said Kumiko, trying haphazardly to feign interest.

"Oh man, are they small," her dad said. "They're also similar to Vatican City because they're all part of this weird cult that the Nakamura family controls. It's basically a tiny theocratic state, and there are horrific rumors that they perform human sacrifice. Isn't it fascinating?"

He turned, saw his daughter staring into space and barely chewing the chips still in her mouth, and finally noticed that something was off.

"Hey, Kumi," he said, turning off the television, "what's wrong? Did something happen at school today?"

Kumiko swallowed and folded up the half-empty chip bag. Without the chatter of the television, it crinkled loudly in the sudden silence. She considered telling her dad about how she ended up on last chair. Then he'd comfort her with some motivation quotes and jokes and that would be that. But if she were to be honest, that wasn't what was bothering her right now.

Maybe it was worth confiding in her dad. After all, he did come up with good advice every now and then.

"It's my friend," she admitted. "Reina. I'm just... I..."

Her dad narrowed his eyes.

"Isn't that the angry girl from middle school? Is she giving you a hard time? Do I need to go and-"

"No!" said Kumiko. "We're actually friends now. It's okay."

Her dad seemed surprised for a moment, then settled into a knowing smirk.

 _"Teenagers,"_ he mused. "Well, what's wrong now?"

Kumiko hesitantly shared the details of her conversation with Reina after audition postings that day. Reina, she'd learned, was adopted by her current stepfather from an abusive adoptive family. Her stepfather was a priest at a church frequented by her previous adoptive family who took her in after learning of her situation.

"A priest?" said her dad. "So he's Christian, like us. That's good news."

"I don't know," Kumiko said. "Reina gets really nervous, like, literally every time she talks about her stepdad. Especially today. It was kinda weird. She kept saying she was thankful for him."

 _"I'm grateful for my stepdad,"_ Reina had intoned on their walk home, mid-description of her family situation. _"I really am, Kumiko. I'm thankful for him."_ Almost as if she thought someone were listening, and she needed to prove her devotion. It was horribly unsettling with how many times she repeated that sentiment. After she and Reina parted ways, those words haunted Kumiko more than any insults Reina had ever thrown at her.

Oddly, her dad responded with, "I'm not surprised to learn that Reina was abused, you know? Based on what you told me."

"Really?"

"Mhmm, yup. When I was a boy, my best friend's mother was an alcoholic. Children from families like that sometimes grow up thinking that harsh criticism is the only way of showing affection."

"Oh." _That would explain a lot,_ thought Kumiko.

"Reina also probably reads too deeply into small responses, just like my friend," her dad speculated. "In an abusive home, sometimes your safety depends on how well you can read your parent's mood that day. It's like trying to avoid landmines."

Her dad's explanations of Reina's behavior gave Kumiko a tiny bit of comfort. Yes, there were other things bothering her, like the fact that she had went from principal euphonium at Kita to last chair at Kitauji, and then Hashimoto-sensei's callous scoffing at her tears. But at least now she was better prepared to reach out to the mysterious Reina.

"In any case," said her dad, "I don't think Reina is being abused any more by her new guardian, so you don't need to worry. It sounds to me like she's trying to practice thankfulness as a Christian."

Kumiko's eyes widened.

"Her stepdad almost made her quit band in high school," she pointed out.

"Well, he was probably worried about her time management or her grades."

"But she was valedictorian."

"Maybe she was only valedictorian because her stepdad was strict," said her dad. "If he's really a God-fearing priest, then I think that it's unlikely he would be cruel to Reina."

Kumiko wanted to argue further, but her dad then said, "In any case, there's only one thing we can do right now. Let's pray, Kumi."

He clasped his hands and shut his eyes. Kumiko stifled an eyeroll as she followed suit. She didn't want to upset her dad- or worse, induce him to go into preachy mode. So, she listened quietly while her father voiced a prayer for Kousaka Reina as rain pattered against the window. Then she obediently murmured "Amen" with him at the end of the ordeal.

"Don't worry," her dad said, smiling. "God has a plan for all of us... just like I've got a plan to cheer you up! How about I make you and your mother some omelette rice for dinner?"

 _Yes,_ thought Kumiko, standing up from the couch with a wide grin and following her dad to the kitchen. _Eggs. Thank god for eggs._

After dinner was ready, and a portion set aside for Kumiko's mom for her late return from work, her dad said grace before the meal. Kumiko went along with it, but she had long since decided that she wasn't a Christian. It would broke her dad's heart if he knew. It was largely because after discovering her wings, she realized that she was technically an angel by definition. And if people were placing their faith in her, then they were stupid to put their hopes and dreams on a crappy euphonium player with mediocre grades in algebra.

As for the existence of a higher being, Kumiko wasn't sure. Neither did she care, and nor was she overly interested in the bible stories her dad believed in with such passion. With so much to think about, like learning to fly, and passing her classes, and working on band music, she didn't dedicate much time thinking about whether or not to believe in a god.

But that night, after she climbed out her window and took flight in the subdued drizzle of rain, Kumiko started to feel concerns that she'd never considered in the past.

 _I have wings,_ she thought. Were there others out there like her? Others created with the ability to fly, drifting around and unsure of their place in the world? Or perhaps they were out there using their powers of heat and light for good? Were people like her the reason for such widespread belief in angels? And if so... should she try to find those people and contact them?

Kumiko dipped slightly beneath the clouds to check if she was on course. Sure enough, the nightscape beneath her was pitch black. She was in the airspace of her familiar forest, which meant it was safe to take a break now.

Angling her amber-colored feathers and catching the wind at the right angle, she launched into a downward spiral toward the nearest treetop. Finally, she could idle here for a while. Fighting winds up in the clouds was exhausting, even if they were only mild gusts.

As she sat on a branch, resting her aching back muscles and catching her breath... Kumiko suddenly realized a terrifying possibility.

 _Aren't there other things in the bible besides angels?_

The dense nighttime forest and black clouds now seemed more eerie than ever before. It was too dark and she was too alone. She felt hairs rising on the back of her arm, and not from the soaking chill of rainwater.

 _If I'm real, then... are demons real too?_

A sudden flash of lightning tore through the clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Then Kumiko saw them.

Two cones of white light waving faintly beneath the treetops. To her horror, the lights were rapidly nearing her position.

 _Somebody knows._

* * *

It was too late to fly without being caught. She was forced to dissolve her feathers in the wind and drop down into the forest.

Mud splashed all over her school uniform as Kumiko tore through the underbrush, running and gasping in terror. She ran as fast as she could in the rain and sludge. Wet hair and sharp branches whipped across her face. Splashing footsteps behind her drawing ever nearer. _Not again. Not again! I shouldn't have come out tonight!_

Her lung started to burn. Lights from behind her flashed across foliage before her. At any moment she waited for something to burst forth from the looming darkness in front of her.

Then her foot slipped on a mud-slick root in the darkness, and Kumiko crashed and splattered into the mire.

She crawled helplessly to her hands and knees in the muck, rain pouring down aroudn her and blood trickling from a painful gash in her cheek. Her desperate panting was inaudible in the smattering rain.

Out of the darkness, two bright lights emerged, shining directly on Kumiko's trembling form.

Wide-eyed, nearing tears, Kumiko sat in the mud and awaited the worst.

"Where'd she go?" said a male voice. The flashlights waved away from Kumiko, leaving spots in her vision. "We were so close!"

"Maybe she's hiding," said the other one. "Look around the trees. We'll get her this time."

Two silhouettes, too dark to observe behind the bright shine of the lights, began stalking between the trees towering above her. They waved their lights around in the shadows, twice illuminating Kumiko in the glow, where she remained unmoving and vulnerable in plain sight. Yet after nearly five minutes of searching, the men never seemed to see her.

 _Any minute now. Any minute before her luck ran out._

Kumiko sat still, trembling, not daring to breathe. Then the lights turned back on her. She shut her eyes in terror.

"Girl probably ran ahead. We should get going. We're wasting too much time searching."

"Let's move. Stay in the same direction."

The lights flashed away. Mud splashed as the men trod just mere feet away from where Kumiko knelt. Then she heard their footsteps fading away in the distant forest. When finally, finally, she could hear them no longer, Kumiko let out a breath. She timidly opened her eyes to check if anyone was still around.

There was only falling rain and unending trees in the darkness.

Somehow, she had not been seen.

Kumiko sat still in the mud for another minute, heart pounding violently in shock. Then she hid her face in her hands, blood and grime sticking to her shaking palms. She started to cry, sobbing in relief.

Why she was not seen by her pursuers was beyond her. But tonight, she was just grateful to be alive.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Sorry for the Osomatsu-san and Nakmura Yuuichi / Sugita Tomokazu references. I couldn't help it. :)_

 _ **Thanks for everyone who's checked in with my progress and encouraged me :) You guys are wonderful.**_

 _Please follow tagged/aita for updates on when the next chapter will be posted!_


	12. Molto Ritmico 7: Emergency Contact

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 7: Emergency Contact**

Hashimoto sat staunchly at his office desk in the early morning hours before class, drumming on a blank memo pad with a ballpoint pen as he pored over a large paper calendar in front of him. The days were marked with X's, checks, and names: one of which read _Kousaka._

Today was the first day of May. Nearly an entire month had passed since the first audition at the start of the trimester, and mostly everyone in the ensemble had gotten over the drastic hierarchial shake-ups induced by the incoming freshmen. Instead everyone collected their efforts at the threat of being outperformed by a neighboring high school band. They therefore began focusing their attention on the upcoming Sunrise Festival marching showcase parade.

The only residual drama still lingering among the band was the issue of Kousaka Reina, and her position as principal trumpet. And that was because the girl was missing at least one or two afterschool rehearsals a week, sometimes as many as three.

Yes, Kousaka was talented. Yes, she never flubbed a single note nor missed any partials(*) in daily practice. But her numerous recurrent absences were indeed becoming a problem. It was now difficult for even Hashimoto to defend his selection of Kousaka as principal trumpet, and his students took it even more harshly. He often heard whispers in the halls trash-talking the freshman principal, and suspected the existence of extra whispers about himself which he wasn't picking up.

But unlike his students' assumptions, Hashimoto's guess was that Kousaka Reina's poor attendance had nothing to do with to laziness or arrogance.

 _Really, Masahiro-kun, I need you to keep an eye on her,_ rang Satomi's warnings in his head. _I have suspicions that Kousaka-san is being abused at home._

But of course Satomi's suspicions were only conjectures, and what he'd heard Kousaka say to Oumae wasn't very criminalizing at all when taken in its own context. There could be other reasons why Kousaka was missing rehearsals, other explanations for the red flags Satomi witnessed from Kousaka in middle school.

In any case, there was only one way to find out for sure.

* * *

"Kousaka-san, is that really everything you can tell me?"

Yet again, the girl answered with a meek _"Hai,_ I'm sorry," before lowering her eyes to the ground with the same empty expression she'd worn for the past few minutes. Everything about her tense posture and blank eyes told Hashimoto that she was bracing. This child was expecting to be yelled at in his office. As long as she continued to believe that his intentions were cruel, their conversation would yield zero results.

Hashimoto sighed.

"You're not in trouble, kiddo," he explained, reaching over and pulling up a swivel chair next to his own. "C'mere, have a seat. Are you allergic to cookies?"

Kousaka seemed slightly confused as she shook her head, sinking down in the rolling chair and folding her hands in her lap. Meanwhile Hashimoto slid open his desk drawer and pulled out the famous "Question Tin," a reward system he used to encourage participation in his rehearsals. Some of his colleagues found it juvenile. But Hashimoto knew how harsh he could be on the podium, and he needed something to counterbalance his stricter side.

He opened the lid and handed his student a buttery cookie with a chocolate music note on it. The girl refused, as Hashimoto thought she might.

"I don't des- I didn't answer any questions today in rehearsal."

"You played quite well today," said Hashimoto. "That's ample reason. Have a cookie."

Kousaka eventually accepted the cookie with both hands, purple eyes glancing cautiously at Hashimoto before she took a small bite. As she ate her shoulders slackened and she appeared to relax slightly, and the band director leaned back in his seat. Now, he thought, he could try for some better answers.

"Kousaka-san," he started again, "you really sound like you enjoy playing trumpet. Anyone can hear it when you practice in the morning. So you can see why I have trouble understanding your absences. If you can help me understand, then maybe I can help you."

Kousaka swallowed and hesitated.

"It's just my honors classes," she offered, blushing as she stared down at the floor. "High school is new, and I'm having trouble keeping up."

 _What an unskilled liar,_ thought Hashimoto, watching Kousaka turn even redder. Unable to help himself, he asked, "Weren't you Kita middle school's valedictorian?"

Kousaka fell silent.

"I'll do better," she said quietly. "I'll come to more rehearsals."

Hashimoto figured that this was as far as he could get with Kousaka today. He understood that she didn't trust him enough yet to open up about anything dangerous happening at home, nor was it his place to pry excessively at this moment. Now the final thing he needed today was information to help the rest of his students prepare for the Sunrise Festival, and that could only come from Kousaka.

He leaned forward, looking his student in the eye.

"Kousaka-san," he said, "please tell me honestly. Will you be able to participate in SunFes?"

A pause, and then:

"I'll do my best," answered Kousaka, and that wording told Hashimoto everything he needed to know.

"Thank you," he told her. "I know you will. You can go home now, if you need to."

But after Kousaka bowed to him and headed for the door with her cookie, Hashimoto decided he absolutely needed to ask the one question that had been bothering him during his entire conversation with his student. For the entire time, he had been on the edge about asking the girl, but now he felt that he wouldn't be a responsible teacher if he did not say what he was thinking.

"Kousaka-san?" he said slowly, and the girl turned around at the door.

"Yes?"

"Are you... are you in any other clubs?"

"No, Sensei."

"Do you play any sports?"

"No."

"Then why," said Hashimoto quietly, "do you have dried blood underneath your hair, and why do you have bandages beneath your long socks, and why are you trying to hide your limping?"

To his horror, Kousaka's face drained of color. She clutched at the doorframe as she swallowed, pale as a ghost, and gripped her unfinished cookie so tightly that it gently cracked down the middle.

"I- I have to go," she said, bowing hurriedly. _"Sumimasen deshita."_

Hashimoto watched her go, watched her cease her pretension that everything was okay as she half-limped down the hallway.

Christ, there had been blood on the girl's head. And there was no knowing what other scars she was hiding under her long sleeves, which she always seemed to tug down. What the hell was going on in Kousaka's home?

When his student was gone, the band director buried his head in his arms and heaved three trembling breaths, feeling the frame of his glasses pressing against his face. Follow the protocol, he told himself. Follow the rules, start collecting information, and start keeping a file. He fought the lump in his throat, struggled to blink away the heat around his eyes, but it was no use. He stayed like that on his desk for several minutes. Why was it always the gifted ones? Why was it always the kind ones? The ones who didn't deserve it? Tears dripped silently and soaked into his shirt-sleeves.

But worst of all, Kousaka's injuries were not results of natural circumstances. Somebody was doing this to her. More strongly than any pain and worry and sympathy he felt for Kousaka Reina, Hashimoto burned with anger and disgust. Somebody was intentionally hurting the girl... and if he remembered Satomi's words correctly, this 'somebody' had gone out of his way to adopt Kousaka.

 _In that case,_ he thought, _since I need to begin a file, it might be best to start with that information._

Collecting his composure and wiping his eyes dry, Hashimoto got up from his desk and left the third floor office. He went downstairs to the main office, spoke to the staff about his requests, and went to the printing room to wait for the paperwork he needed.

It wasn't long before the printer was rolling out fresh copies of Kousaka Reina's school registration information, which Hashimoto collected and stapled. All of this was going to go into a folder he would buy tomorrow, along with any memos of future conversations with Kousaka and logs of infirmary vists. It was the only thing of substance he could do as a teacher to help her.

Returning to his office to file away the paperwork, Hashimoto thumbed through Kousaka's forms as he walked, searching for the _somebody_ who was doing this to the girl.

Finally, on the emergency contact form, he found the name he was looking for.

 _Section Four:_ Emergency Contact Information

 _Relation to student:_ Stepfather.

 _Preference:_ Primary.

 _Name:_ Taki Noboru.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:**_

 _(*) Partials are something that brass players would understand. It makes their lives hard._

 _I'm sorry there's so much eating in this fic. There's been eating scenes in almost every chapter so far, but it really is intentional. What the characters eat and what food they offer to other characters is a big part of this fanfic, and will continue to be. I pick the food they eat very carefully and it's important to their personalities..._  
 _If you would like me to tag trigger warnings for food (or anything else), please do let me know in the comments or send an ask at my tumblr. :) ask_


	13. Molto Ritmico 8: Sunrise Festival

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 8: Sunrise Festival**

Kumiko slouched dejectedly in front of her bedroom mirror, facing at her moonlit reflection. Tired amber eyes stared back at her. _Get it together,_ she reminded herself. _Focus, Kumiko..._

But no matter how seriously she concentrated and drew her powers inward, she couldn't manage more than a few flickers of unsteady invisibility. Her shadowy form always reappeared in the mirror within a blink or two. Somehow she just couldn't create any kind of seamless invisibility over herself, but she knew it was possible. _Visibility is just the reflection of electromagnetic radiation back to the visible eye,_ Kumiko had learned in physics (the one day she'd paid attention in class). If she could create spheres of light and cook eggs in her bare hands, then theoretically she could control how light was reflected off of herself.

Except this wasn't just theoretical. She'd already done it without knowing it, and it had saved her life in the forest.

In the mirror, Kumiko reached up and touched the small scar on her cheek. It was a reminder that the events from that night were real. She'd told everyone that she'd accidentally cut herself while trying to peel an apple with a knife- a story that had actually happened before. And thanks to her renowned reputation as a klutz, everyone believed her.

Nearly everyone. Kousaka-san- Reina- didn't buy it as quickly.

"You're lying," Reina had accused. "I know it."

"It was really an accident. I'm just like that sometimes."

"I don't believe you."

Then Kumiko had gone for the low blow.

"You're one to talk," she'd said, motioning at Reina's fingers, two of which were bandaged. Then she quickly looked away, ashamed. "You're- you're the one who keeps saying you get into accidents."

It had been enough to make Reina clam up and turn on her heels. Kumiko felt awful, but it was all for the better. If Reina found out... if anyone discovered the truth... they would all be in danger. With a shudder, Kumiko remembered the men chasing her with flashlights. Those men... if they found Reina because of Kumiko...

No. Kumiko had kept this secret for nearly three years, avoiding intimate relationships and politely maintaining an indifferent attitude before any kindly acquiantance who came too close to being a real "friend". She would force herself to stay just as distant now, even with someone like Kousaka Reina who needed the support of friendship from Kumiko.

That said, it was disconcerting that Reina had been the only one Kumiko couldn't convince of her lie. Not even her dad had suspected differently. For someone who was terrible at deceit, Reina saw through Kumiko's lies with suspicious swiftness, perhaps because she was accustomed to hiding injuries herself. All of this was just further proof in Kumiko's mind that Reina's stepfather wasn't the kindly priest that Kumiko's dad liked to think he was.

 _Maybe I can go see for myself,_ she thought, staring at her unsure reflection. Maybe if she learned to control her invisibiltiy, she could look up Reina's home address and fly there- then she would know the truth of Reina's situation firsthand. But this was all dependent on whether or not she had the discipline to master her powers.

Kumiko lifted her amber eyes to her reflection, more resolutely than ever tonight, and concentrated on slipping into invisibility.

* * *

Reina was absent at SunFes.

The band was in hysterics. A student missing any kind of performance for any reason outside of sudden death or was unheard of, not to mention one as important as SunFes- because even a single no-show could spell disaster.

The trumpet section was especially terrified. Without Reina's presence, Kaori-senpai would be the only trumpet playing lead part for the entire duration of the lengthy outdoor performance, meaning that her risk of cracking high notes in the second half of the show was extremely high. And additionally they now had to patch up a gaping hole in the trumpet formation.

"Fake it," hissed Yuuko-senpai, shoving a spare trumpet into the hands of a bewildered colorguard girl who was snatched from the back of Kitauji's marching block. "Just hold it up and march in line with the rest of us."

"We're really sorry," pleaded Kaori-senpai. "But someone needs to fill the empty spot."

But the trumpets' improvised solution wasn't enough to cover the damage. As they marched and performed, Kumiko heard muttering from the unfortunately astute audience- _"Why isn't that girl playing her instrument?" "Look, someone over there's faking it!" "What's wrong with Kitauji's trumpets this year?"_

Then, halfway into the performance, Kaori-senpai's chops began to fail. Her lead trumpet voicing started hiccuping with occasional cracks in the higher registers, some of which were so noticeable that Kumiko's winced internally as she played. But as a fellow brass player, she couldn't blame Kaori. Once a trumpet player's lips had worn out, there was no hope of recovery for next few hours. No amount of determination or effort would help. And without Reina, there was no one to take over and let Kaori catch a break.

Kumiko flushed slightly red at the insulting whispers when Kaori-senpai cracked another partial, but kept her focus on the music as she played from muscle memory.

At the front of the band, conducting with her drum major's baton, Asuka-senpai stared straight ahead with cold steely eyes.

* * *

The Monday after SunFes was a mess. Because the image of the entire band had been affected, the hate for Kousaka Reina had already spread beyond the brass to the woodwinds- particularly starting from the sharp-tongued flutes. Even the percussion section, which was usually pretty detached from wind drama, knew Kousaka's name. People gossiped about Reina at every free moment; before rehearsal during chair setup, sitting in their chairs waiting for Asuka-senpai to warm up the band, and trading whispers between arpeggio exercises.

The noise only fully settled down when Hashimoto-sensei took over the podium and began distributing packets of paper for the section leaders to hand out.

"Congratulations on an excellent SunFes performance," began Hashimoto-sensei. "Remember- a band is not judged by the strengths or faults of any individual player. What's more important our ability to work together, adjust, and recover as a group in any circumstance. Please feel proud of yourselves for how flexible you were with the outdoor tuning process, and how you were able to play in tune and match principals without being in a semicircle."

Meanwhile, the section leaders returned to their seats to hand out the new papers. Kumiko thanked Asuka-senpai as she and Natsuki-senpai received their packets- which turned out to be sheet music.

"Now," said Hashimoto-sensei, "I know we just finished one performance, but it's not the time to rest on our laurels. Today we're going to talk about how we are planning to slaughter our way to gold at Nationals this fall."

Kumiko looked down at her packet. One of the pieces was titled _Required Piece No. 3_ , which appeared to just be the annual AJBA competition piece. She flipped over to the next piece- and her eyes widened. The music looked extremely difficult and was penned by Phillip Sparke, the same composer of Kumiko's favorite euphonium concerto. This wind composition of his must be Kitauji's free choice piece this year.

The title read _"Dance Movements - Movement 4: Molto Ritmico."_

The rest of the band stirred anew with nervousness and excitement as they began discussing the new music. Kumiko was grateful for the change in topic. She was getting sick of hearing all the trash talk about Reina from judgmental people who just last week didn't even know she existed.

Hashimoto briefed the band on the procedures for the second round of auditions to take place before the first trimester's final exams, explaining that only 55 players out of the band's total 116 members would be selected for the competitive A-band. Everyone else would play in the B-band, for non-competitive ratings without awards.

"Your auditions will again consist of excerpts," said Hashimoto-sensei, "but this time exclusively from our pieces. Please remember that while technical skill is more highly valued on this audition, your ability to play as a team member will be just as important as before. An ideal player will show up with both qualities."

 _55 out of 116,_ thought Kumiko nervously. Crap, that was more than half the band. She had to beat Natsuki-senpai in their three-member euphonium section if she wanted to go to Nationals- and if she wanted to continue attending the same rehearsals as Reina, who would undoubtedly make the A-Band despite her absence last Saturday.

Failing to win this audition, Kumiko realized, meant that she might lose her chance to progress her friendship with Reina any further.

This time, she knew she was ready. Kumiko had learned a lot over the past month while playing under Hashimoto-sensei's baton and from Reina's friendlier tutelage. For this audition, she wouldn't just practice hard- she'd also work smarter.

Hashimoto-sensei's voice interrupted her chain of thought. The band director lifted his baton as he called, "Instruments up, please. We're going to sightread this piece today to give you an idea of how your excerpts fit into the greater picture. Can anyone tell me what we call this?"

Kumiko looked hesitantly toward Reina, who normally answered questions in rehearsal whenever she could. But Reina wasn't even looking at Hashimoto-sensei. Instead the normally bold trumpet player stared at her lap, clutching her instrument and unopened packet of sheet music.

Someone else jumped to answer Hashimoto-sensei's question. "It's called getting the macro!" said a clarinet player enthusiastically.

"Correct! And what do we call it when we work on technical details in our own parts to match the macro?"

"Getting the micro!"

"Nicely answered, Toroizuka-san!" said Hashimoto-sensei, beaming through his glasses. "Come get a cookie in my office after rehearsal. Now, from the top! _Molto Ritmico_ means 'very rhythmically,' so if you'll pardon the pun- take note!"

The band groaned at the egregious joke, while Hashimoto-sensei chuckled to himself.

He raised his baton, and then they were off on their path to Nationals.

* * *

At the end of rehearsal, Kumiko saw Reina hastily pack up her trumpet with uncharacteristic sloppiness. She hurried out of the bustling band room while everyone else began cleaning up chairs and stands.

Kumiko abandoned her euphonium, deciding to pack it up later. She picked up her music stand and chair and cut through the crowd near the clustered trumpet section under the guise of being en route to the storage room. As she neared the gossip, she gradually learned that the subjects under discussion were Reina and Kaori-senpai, who wasn't present. Apparently the senior section leader had fled as quickly as Reina had.

"Kaori literally shouldn't be blaming herself," one of the trumpets was saying. "We don't blame her. Chops are chops and she couldn't have held out any longer."

"It's all that bitch's fault," another trumpet concluded, and the rest of them nodded silently but vigorously.

Then Hashimoto-sensei passed by on his way to speak to the percussion section, and all the trumpets lowered their voices.

"If she hadn't flaked out on Kaori-senpai..."

"I don't know why Hashimoto-sensei even made her principal..."

"We should talk to Hashimoto-sensei after auditions this time," said one of them, whom Kumiko recognized as Yuuko-senpai, by her yellow hair bow. "I'm sick of Kousaka being a huge bitch and thinking she's too good to show up for rehearsals just because she's principal-"

 _JUST SHUT UP IF YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER!"_ raged Kumiko mentally, her hands curling into fists- and then she saw that the trumpets had gone silent and were staring at her in disbelief. Hashimoto-sensei was also watching her with a look of confusion.

To her horror, she realized that she'd accidentally yelled that out loud.

Stumbling back from the furious upperclassmen, Kumiko swallowed, turning pale.

"S-sorry," she stammered lamely- then turned tail. Her face flushed pink and her brown hair bounced stupidly as she dashed frantically toward the door. It was a ridiculous follow-up to what must've been a dramatically bold defense of her friend, but Kumiko just wanted to escape at this point and go hide somewhere in horror.

Unbeknownst to Kumiko and the trumpet section, Hashimoto-sensei watched as his first-year student sprinted from the room.

Everyone else glared after Kumiko. But on the band director's face was a slightly proud smile.

* * *

The bathroom, thought Kumiko. That was a good place to escape to. After all, everyone else was occupied with packing up, so no one would be here for a while.

But when she neared the entrance and cracked the door ajar, she heard small sobs echoing off the tiled walls.

Evidently Kumiko wasn't alone in thinking the bathroom was a suitable hiding spot. Catching her breath, she considered leaving to find somewhere else. But after a moment's thought she decided to stay, because those sobs sounded familiar...

Kumiko silently pulled the door open, bracing herself for whatever was on the other side. She tiptoed cautiously into the bathroom and peeked around the corner.

Sitting against the wall on the tiled floor was Reina, crying quietly into her knees.

"Reina?"

Reina didn't lift her head. Her face was buried in her raven-black hair. But she muttered, "There's nothing I'm good at."

Those strange words were so shocking to Kumiko that she could only stare in disbelief. She'd been expecting harsh words about Yuuko-senpai, or the trumpet section, or the band in general. But... the youngest principal trumpet at Kitauji in a decade, claiming there was nothing she was good at?

Eventually, Kumiko managed to croak out uselessly, "W-what?"

Reina's head whipped up and her purple eyes flashed as she glared at the wall dead ahead.

"THERE'S NOTHING I'M GOOD AT!" she screamed, her torn voice reverberating through the bathroom.

It was so similar to that day at Prefecturals last year, and yet so different. Reina wasn't seething at the perceived incompetence of the world around her like before; now, her anger was self-directed. And this time Kumiko felt no fear as she edged her way next to Reina, who wiped her eyes with a brown sleeve and brushed aside a lock of hair.

Kumiko smiled quietly as she sank down on the floor beside her distraught friend.

"If even Kousaka Reina says that," she mused, "then I must be utter trash. Guess I'll head to the dumpster now."

Reina looked at her with watery eyes before turning her gaze back to the floor.

"Of course you'd say something like that," she said. "But I'm never good enough here and I'm never good enough at home and nothing I do is right. It's like... I'm always wrong, no matter what I do. And I'll never be happy."

 _But you're principal,_ Kumiko nearly blurted out. _You were valedictorian, and you're the honors class rep, and you're beautiful and amazing and you have perfect boobs and perfect hair and you're brilliant at everything you do. You're everything I want to be; I want to be as amazing as you._ Yet she knew that none of those surface-level things were what Reina was talking about, so she kept quiet and tried to understand what Reina meant.

Especially the part about "at home." Kumiko found that sort of disturbing.

Reina glanced at Kumiko with a small smile, and murmured, "Only a terrible human like you would have zero comforting words after I told you that."

"I- wait, no," Kumiko stuttered. "I was just-"

"You know, I wish I could just... tell you everything," said Reina, her fingers tugging at the hem of her skirt. "You're different from the others. I know you're special."

"Then tell me," Kumiko jumped in. "Just tell me. I... I promise I'll do anything to help."

To her dismay, Reina bit her lip and turned away. "But you're not special enough," she muttered. "Sorry."

Kumiko would be lying if she said she weren't slightly hurt by the blunt dismissal. It was a stinging remark that would probably reemerge to gnaw at her when she was alone with her thoughts. But at the moment, her insatiable curiosity and concern for Reina were more important, and so she pressed on for answers.

"Reina," she pleaded, "I really just want to help. What happened last Saturday?"

Reina hesitated, and opened her mouth to answer- but then the door swung open.

Both girls flinched and looked up when Asuka-senpai stepped in with a smile, but the eyes behind her red-rimmed glasses were cold and austere. Her sweeping gaze landed on Kumiko.

"There you are," said Asuka-senpai, her voice misleadingly jolly as she kept the door propped open with one arm. "Oumae-san and Kousaka-san, your instruments and music folders are still out there. Don't make me clean up after you two!"

Kumiko sprung to her feet in terror.

 _"H- hai!_ she yelled, bowing deeply and sloppily. "S- so sorry!"

Next to her, Reina stood up and offered a curt little bow. Her expression was defiant, though her gaze was fixed on the floor.

"Excuse me," said the trumpet player. Then she strode quickly past the drum major, who kept holding the door open, but eyed Reina all the way out of the bathroom.

"Wait!" cried Kumiko as Reina's shorter form disappeared around the entrance into the hallway. "Reina- wait up-"

She started after her friend, only to be blocked by Asuka's firm hand on her shoulder. Kumiko looked up.

All lingering pretenses of a smile had vanished from Asuka's face.

"Oumae-san."

Kumiko swallowed.

"Yes?"

Asuka adjusted her red glasses as she let the door swing shut behind them.

"We need to talk," said her section leader. "You're a member of our bass section now, and I hope you remember that."

Slightly confused, Kumiko nodded. "I do."

"Good," said Asuka. "Then as a section member, your actions will be traced back to all of us. That includes who you associate with. And if I were you, I'd start thinking a little harder about who to spend time with."

Kumiko's eyes widened.

"You- you're telling me to stay away from Kousaka-san?"

"I'm saying," said Asuka, "that I don't think her situation is going to get any better, and people are going to turn on her more and more. Now I know you ended up on last chair," she added, "but it was a close call. Between you and Natsuki I think you have the better shot at making the A-band. So, if you care at all about your future in this band, you might start thinking about which side you want to be on."

Kumiko understood where this was going. Unable to help herself, she grit her teeth and lashed out, "How could you say that?"

Asuka narrowed her eyes.

"Man, that was supposed to be good news for you," she said. "Didn't you hear what I said about the A-band?

"What does that have to do with anything?" spat Kumiko, completely forgetting who she was talking to. "Reina's my friend!"

"Oh?" said Asuka. "She's your friend now? Just a few weeks ago I heard you were terrified of her."

"She's my friend," Kumiko affirmed, both to Asuka and to herself, "and I think Hashimoto-sensei won't care about stuff like that on the audition."

Asuka cocked an eyebrow. "That's only the first reason," she added. "The other thing is that I'm getting bad vibes about Kousaka. Something about that girl is off."

This gave Kumiko some pause.

"What do you mean?"

"She feels dangerous," Asuka said. "I don't know why, but you should stay away from her, Oumae-san."

Kumiko resisted the urge to roll her eyes at how melodramatic Asuka-senpai sounded.

"Okay," she conceded, just to stop the exchange from dragging any further, and bent in a half-bow. "Can I, um, leave now? To pack up my instrument?"

Asuka gave her an odd look before stepping aside. But as Kumiko opened the door, Asuka asked quietly, "Oumae-san? Is there anything you know that you're not telling me?"

Kumiko hesitated.

She thought of Reina's abusive stepfather. She thought of the way Reina had repeated over and over that she was grateful for him, and the way Reina had instantly known Kumiko was lying about her injuries. And she thought of the scar on her cheek, and of her own secrets: her wings, her control over light, and the mysterious men stalking her in the dark.

She turned and looked Asuka-senpai in the eye. Suddenly her heart was pounding as she realized just how disrespectful she'd been today.

"No," she uttered. "May I please go now?"

She felt Asuka's eyes on her back as she escaped the conversation back to the band room, only to find it empty. Reina had already left.

Oh god, Kumiko had just acted snippy with the drum major of the top high school band in Kyoto prefecture. Why was she so stupid? Already she was nervous of seeing Asuka in rehearsal tomorrow after school. But at the same time, a new day's rehearsal might also mean another chance to get the truth out of Reina about why she missed SunFes last Saturday.

Kumiko started to put away her euphonium, twisting out the mouthpiece and lowering the bulky instrument into its case. As she went through the motions, she thought about the new dilemma now facing her.

Reina was the first real friend Kumiko had ever had. In the past Kumiko'd had people whom she was friendly with, whom she ate lunch with and traded gossip with, but not like the emotionally deep conversations she'd shared with Kousaka Reina. And it was because she'd never met someone like Reina either. Reina was sort of a _tsun-tsun_ on the outside, Kumiko had come to find, but the trumpet player always faithfully came to find Kumiko after each rehearsal she was present at, and always gave practice advice when Kumiko needed it. It was a little bit cute how tightly Reina plastered herself to Kumiko, to be honest, and Kumiko had now been sucked in for good.

But then with friends came liabilities that Kumiko had never worried about in the past. She thought of Reina's strange home life, and thought of how she'd defended Reina in front of Asuka today. What if Reina's physical safety was at risk someday, and Kumiko had to protect her in a far more extreme sense? Would she be willing to jeopardize the secrecy of her powers for Reina?

Kumiko really wasn't sure. Perhaps that made her a terrible person, but it was something to seriously consider. Otherwise, maybe it was best to listen to Asuka's advice. Maybe it was best to break it off now before risking a greater betrayal of friendship down the road.

But as Kumiko numbly put her sheet music and audition packet in her folder, she realized that the creeping fear she felt was not because of the possibility of having to fight for Reina- but rather because deep down, she'd already accepted it as inevitable. It was just like most of her indecisive moments- in reality she'd already made the decision in her heart, even though her mind was still weighing options and catching up.

The honest truth was that she was scared because it wasn't a question of 'if,' but of 'when.'

Kumiko picked up her backpack and stood up, deciding that she had to seriously start figuring out her plans. One day, the men in the dark might begin to do more than watch from afar.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _Definitely take a listen to Dance Movements Molto Ritmico here!_ **watch?v=SnT4SztMXPg**

 _It is one of the most difficult and interesting pieces of wind band literature I played in high school. (The last two pages of the piece contain some of the most challenging clarinet parts I've ever seen.) I'd recommend listening to the other movements; they are all beautiful and almost sound like movie music._


	14. Molto Ritmico 9: Second Audition

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 9: Second Audition**

Not surprisingly, audition number two finished with even more insanity than the first one.

Every year on this specific day, Hashimoto felt like an overworked single-parent of 116 teenagers- more than usual, that was. He dealt with screaming second years and comforted sobbing third years who didn't make the A-band cut. But aside from his roles as teacher and counselor, he had even more tasks to complete in the day ahead; because for this audition, it was not enough simply line everyone up by numerical score. Drawing up rotational seating charts for both his A and B groups required a working grasp of each student's quirks as musicians. To aid him, Hashimoto had scribbled dozens of pages of notes about his 116 students' strengths and weaknesses.

The exceptions to this system were the bassoons, tubas, and euphoniums, since those sections had only two players each and would therefore not be switching seats between pieces.

Within those sections, results for the ones with well-established hierarchies yielded little surprises- except in the euphoniums, where Ice Cream Oumae had soundly beaten Nakagawa for the ticket to Nationals. Hashimoto smiled as he started typing Oumae's name into the A-band spreadsheet. He'd seen how bold and yet caring the awkward freshman could be, and that valuable combo of fierceness and sensitivity would no doubt carry over into her playing style.

Nakagawa, meanwhile, had apparently conducted herself with enormously gracious sportsmanship in light of being defeated by a first-year. Hashimoto heard through the grapevine that Nakagawa had treated Oumae to a milkshake on the day after results were posted. When friendlier people like Nakagawa and Oumae became upperclassmen, euphonium recruitment might grow to be more successful than it was now under Tanaka's harsher leadership. He made a note to add it to his annual list of student strengths, which he normally kept on the back of a group photo.

Tanaka, who unsurprisingly came out on top as principal euphonium, was one of Hashimoto's long-time favorites- but not because she was friendly with him. Quite the opposite. Hashimoto was no idiot; he knew just how deeply Tanaka disliked him because of some of his policies. But the fact that the girl had such strong opinions and values was what earned her his respect.

After Hashimoto finished aligning the sections that were easily put into order, he moved on to tackle the trumpets... whom were not nearly as stable of a pack.

Firstly, Kousaka Reina's score had plummeted from her initial 98/100 to a considerably lower 84/100. She sounded so different on her performance that Hashimoto was surprised it was actually Kousaka playing, and it meant she could no longer remain principal despite scraping her way into the A-band. At first Hashimoto had wondered if it was a bizarre case of nerves, but soon he picked up on rumors that the girl had purposely played badly on the audition in order to score lower.

Apparently it was so that she would lose her principal chair... as atonement for the damage she caused on SunFes.

In a way, it was his fault. Hashimoto sighed. He'd been so busy preparing for and mopping up the paperwork after this audition that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly speak to Reina about her absence at SunFes yet. The girl's inability to find closure- which Hashimoto could have nipped in the bud if he were an older, wiser teacher- was probably what triggered her rash decision to relinquish principal.

Although it was perhaps too late at this point, he felt he was still responsible, and wanted to see what he could do. And, for other reasons, he needed to find out what exactly happened in the first place.

The next day after rehearsal, Hashimoto called Reina into his office.

"Kousaka-san," he said, gesturing for the short girl to take a seat. "Firstly, congrats on making the A-band. But can you please tell me about what happened on Saturday?"

Kousaka sat down and stared at her clasped hands. Her face was flushed red.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, bowing her head. "I had a family emergency."

Hashimoto wasn't surprised. "Something with your stepfather?" he asked.

Kousaka was silent, her face expressionless.

Hashimoto sighed as he rubbed the scruff on his chin out of habit. Perhaps it was better to try a different approach. He didn't doubt that Kousaka was telling the truth, but just in case- in case there was something more trivial behind her absence- he needed to make sure the severity of her actions was communicated properly.

"Kousaka-san," he said, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me. Ordinarily this is grounds for dismissal from the band. You won't be cut from the ensemble today, but I need to know what happened."

For some reason, Kousaka glanced at the door behind Hashimoto before she answered.

"He... he wouldn't let me go," she murmured.

"Your stepfather?" said Hashimoto, just to make things clear for the transcript he would record later.

Kousaka nodded, and gave a quiet _"Hai."_

"Taki Noboru-san, am I correct?"

Another nod.

Then Kousaka shifted in her seat... and Hashimoto noticed with an internal wince that she wore several fresh bandages on her knees beneath her thigh-high socks, and the way she carried her left arm did not seem quite normal. Goddamnit; he'd been an idiot to try the slightly tougher approach with this kid.

"Kousaka-san," he spoke more gently, "would it help if... if I spoke to your stepfather?"

Kousaka's head darted up, and the look of horror that Hashimoto saw in her wide purple eyes would haunt him as a teacher for the rest of his life. No child- no one- should be that terrified of their parent.

Kousaka answered in a small voice:

"Don't."

"Why not?" said Hashimoto. "Maybe I could help. If your stepdad understood your importance in the band, he might let you go to all performances in the future."

"Don't," Kousaka repeated. "You'd... you might say something wrong."

"Would it be unsafe for you if I did?"

"No. I'm fine."

Hashimoto's heart broke a little at how Reina answered this particular question so quickly and automatically. But at the same time, he needed to understand exactly what she meant by 'say something wrong.'

He shifted in his rolling chair before asking, "Are you worried I might say something that could create consequences for you?"

Kousaka shook her head.

"No," she said. "It's just... it could be bad. For you, Sensei."

Hashimoto frowned, taken aback. "What? For me?"

Then Kousaka glanced again at the door behind him. He turned to follow her line of sight, and realized she had been watching the clock on the wall.

"I'm sorry, but can I go?" said Kousaka quietly. "I can't be late."

Hashimoto nodded. He understood all too well the horrors of tardiness in an abusive family situation, and didn't want to endanger the girl any further. But as Kousaka bowed and stood up to leave, Hashimoto slid open his drawer and took out his cookie tin. There was one more thing left to do.

"Wait a sec, kid," he said, picking out a treble-clef shaped lemon cookie. He handed it to Reina, who bowed slightly and accepted it with both hands.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

"Just try to stay safe," said Hashimoto, eyeing the bandages on Kousaka's knee. "Don't let any trebles get you down, alright?"

Kousaka smiled slightly at the dumb pun before thanking him and heading home.

When she left his office, Hashimoto pulled out a sheet of paper and began jotting down their conversation. He wished the folder on Kousaka Reina he brought out from his filing cabinet into were not as thick as it already was. Writing carefully, he recorded their conversation today, word for word.

Then he paused and furrowed his eyebrows at when he got to the part about _'saying something wrong.'_

What did his student mean by that? What could he possibly say that would be so damaging? And, most unsettlingly, why did she imply that a simple conversation with the mysterious Taki Noboru could be dangerous for himself?

Hashimoto wondered what exactly was going on in Kousaka's dysfunctional home that would cause her to say things like this. But he was only her teacher. There was only so many actions he could take, and barging into Reina's house was not one of them.

Hashimoto was unaware that far away from his office, sitting on her bed with her schoolbag and euphonium on the floor, was someone who could.

After a week of daily practice in the mirror, Oumae Kumiko had finally learned to control her invisibility. And the first destination she intended to visit in the darkness of midnight was Kousaka Reina's home.


	15. Molto Ritmico 10: Unauthorized Signal

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 10: Unauthorized Signal**

This was the night. Calm winds, a bright full moon, and no cloud cover... which Kumiko no longer needed for safe flight to avoid being seen. And with her seat in the A-band secure, she no longer had to worry about jeopardizing her friendship with Reina by staying up late and affecting her playing ability. Everything had fallen neatly in place for her to do this tonight.

Tonight she'd finally be able to visit Reina's home.

Kumiko checked Google Maps on her phone, in which was already entered Kousaka's address that she'd found online through a reverse background check. The fully charged screen glowed softly in her dark bedroom. The zippers on the back of her shirt were undone, she had removed her bra, and everything was ready to go for flight.

There was only one last thing left to do.

Kumiko smiled confidently at herself in the mirror- and then watched her reflection melt away into the shadows. Without being able to see her arms and legs, she felt as if she were no more than a pair of eyes. A happy thrill shivered down her spine. Tonight was the first ever that she would fly while similtaneously maintaining her will to stay invisible, and she was going to use her powers for something good for once. For Reina.

Glancing down to make sure her body was no longer visible, Kumiko headed over to her window to check the weather one last time.

But when she drew open the curtains, her heart stopped.

Standing on the road in front of her apartment complex in the silver moonlight was a bald man in a black suit and tie.

As Kumiko peeked out timidly, the man's head slowly turned.

His dark eyes stared straight at her.

Kumiko ducked beneath her windowsill with a terrified gasp. Had he seen her? But when she checked herself and held up an unseen arm, she was still invisible. The bald man must have just looked up because he saw her curtains move.

So then... who was he?

And then Kumiko had a chilling thought: _Could this man be Reina's stepfather?_

There was only one way to find out.

Gathering her courage, Kumiko rose up and tiptoed out of her room. She didn't want to wake her parents, and winced as her hesitant footsteps creaked in the wooden hallway until she finally reached the kitchen's tiled floor. Her socks padded softly across to the front door, where she slipped a pair of sneakers onto her invisible feet. As soon as the shoes touched her, they also shimmered out of sight.

Kumiko left her apartment and headed downstairs to the unstaffed lobby like a ghost. As she prepared to exit, she wondered what the bald man might think if he saw the automatic front door open and close by itself. Or if she were lucky, the man might not think much of it at all and simply consider it a door glitch.

It was a risk that she'd have to take if she wanted answers. She had no other choice.

Kumiko took a deep breath, steadied herself, and walked out of the sliding doors.

The bald man's head spun around at the motion, and Kumiko froze in place as the doors shut behind her. There was a long moment as they stared at each other in the eerie moonlight, Kumiko's heart threatening to leap from her throat... until the man finally looked away.

It was a confirmation that she was truly invisible.

As the man produced a walkie-talkie from his breast pocket, Kumiko edged closer to him and slowly squatted down behind a cement planter on the sidewalk with a bush growing in it. The shrubbery would hide her just in case she accdentally dropped her invisibility.

She heard the walkie-talkie buzz to life, and twisted around to watch the bald man speak.

"Birdwatch Seven," growled the man. "Just saw the doors open and close on their own. Anything to be worried about? Over."

A curt answer buzzed back.

 _"Birdwatch Two. Probably a small animal triggered the sensor,"_ a voice replied. _"She's an angel, not a ghost. I'll be there in two minutes. Over and out."_

"Roger. Awaiting your arrival."

So the bald man was definitely assigned to be stalking her. Kumiko swallowed in fear. The men speaking sounded as if they worked for an entire organization that knew of Kumiko's powers, and knew where she lived. But luckily, it didn't sound as if they'd caught wind of her new abilities yet.

Soon a black car with tinted windows rolled up in front of the apartment. The door clicked open, and out emerged two other men in suits.

The bald man snapped into a stiff salute.

"Good evening, Lieutenant."

Kumiko's eyes widened. Was this... was this the military?

"Good evening," replied one of the suited men, whom Kumiko figured must be the lieutenant. "Any developments?"

"Negative, sir."

"Noted," said the lieutenant in a low voice. "In that case you are relieved of your shift. You and I will head back to home base for reassignment."

"Hai. Thank you, sir."

"Birdwatch Two, remember we are just here to surveil. No action is to be taken unless the target compromises secrecy. We're only here to keep her from playing with her wings in public. Is that understood?"

"Hai."

The lieutenant nodded.

"Stay in contact."

Both men saluted.

Then the car doors opened and shut, the engine stuttered to life, and Kumiko had to make an immediate decision in the next few seconds.

This was her chance to learn more about the dark-clothed men pursuing her- where they came from, who they worked for, and what they wanted. She could even follow the men all the way to their 'home base.' Tonight would likely be the one and only opportunity presented to her, whereas she could visit Reina's house any night she wanted. And as much as she worried about Reina... this was more pressing.

Kumiko's heart pounded wildly as she leapt invisibly to her feet and dashed away from her apartment complex.

Chasing the black car down the empty street in the middle of the road, she grit her teeth and picked up speed when the car accelerated. As she ran and clutched her phone in her hand, feathers burst from her back and sprouted rapidly from the unzipped seams in her shirt. Kumiko felt her wings tenting widely to catch the wind as they spread from one side of the road to the other.

Then she leapt into the air with a final burst of speed and took off into the night sky. Her invisible wings flapped powerfully and fanned out in the cold air as she soared higher, the gold lights of her home city glittering beneath her and the black car looking more and more like a toy on a model map.

She silently glided above the car and followed it through Uji's moonwashed cityscape.

Kumiko resolved not to stop tonight until she discovered where these men were going.

* * *

Hours later, Kumiko shivered as she huddled with her wings folded tightly, sitting on top of a large shipping truck that happened to be sticking closely to the black car on the highway. Her hand gripped a metal rut to stabilize herself on the roof. _So much for not stopping._

Tonight had been the longest and most exhausting flight so far in her entire life: her wings and back muscles ached deeply, the wind had left her invisible hair a tangled mess, and her eyes stung from the harsh air. She patted a clammy palm on her numb red cheeks, trying to warm them. It was lucky that Kumiko had been able to successfully land on this moving truck, allowing her a chance to rest her wings.

It had been around midnight when she left, but now the stars were just starting to set as the horizon lightened. The black car had left Uji behind long ago and now rolled down a highway in the middle of nowhere, with endless dark trees flying by on both sides of the road. She saw no buildings or farms, only wilderness and distant powerlines. Kumiko no longer recognized what part of Japan they were in.

Ahead of her truck, she suddenly noticed the black car shift to the right lane. It was evidently time to exit the highway soon.

Kumiko gripped the rut with both hands and prepared to jump.

When the black car split left from the highway, she took a deep breath and leapt off the truck. Her wings flared out and beat rapidly to reach gliding altitude. She kept her invisibility in check as she continued following the black car, which crawled steadily on a winding path cutting through sprawling forests.

The narrow road snaked onward in the dark for a several dozen kilometers. It rose gently over small mountains and occasionally crossed tiny rivers. And then, finally, the black car slowed to a stop.

Kumiko spiraled down through the cool mist to get a closer look, and saw that they had reached a tall fence in the middle of the road. Closer examination revealed that the fence stretched on for unknowable lengths in the thick shadowy woods to the left and right of the lone entrance. One of the tiny men emerged from the car and did something at a black box near the fence before climbing back into the vehicle.

Then, slowly, a gate swung open, allowing the car to pass. Apparently they were now entering a closed perimeter.

Kumiko followed cautiously above in the air and prayed that there wouldn't be any aerial security.

It was another few kilometers until the dawn horizon began to lighten before she finally glimpsed squat white buildings sitting in clearings in the forest. The largest one was cross-shaped, with multiple stories, while the smaller others were flat and rectangular. Beside the buildings were two long strips of road- and Kumiko realized with a jolt of fear that they were runways.

Normally her flight altitude was too low for airplanes to be an issue, but next to a takeoff and landing-zone like this... colliding with a plane or being sucked into an engine suddenly became very real possibilities. And Kumiko knew that no matter how hard she tried, she could never outfly a plane. It would be like trying to outrun a car.

 _Time to land soon,_ she thought nervously. Getting on the ground was the safest course of action at the moment.

Before that though, Kumiko wanted to get an idea of where she was. She pulled out her phone as she glided lower and opened Google Maps, but the buildings were nowhere to be seen on the satellite images. They must have been doctored to hide the location of this facility, which Kumiko was becoming increasingly convinced was government owned and operated.

Instead, she copied the coordinates of her location and pasted them into the 'Name' space of a new contract screen.

As the black car rolled to a stop at a second gate and security checkpoint, Kumiko drifted closer to the ground, nearing the building until she was low enough to flap her way down to a running landing upon the grass. She tucked her wings back as she dashed quietly toward the entrance of the main building, to which the car pulled up.

The door opened, and in the out came the bald man and the lieutenant. Kumiko heard their idle chatter as she stood, invisible, beside the the wall:

"- delegate more resources to the others if I were them," the lieutenant was saying. "This girl's less of an issue. All she does is play her small tuba all day."

"Mhm," nodded the bald man. "The others act up more."

 _Others?!_

Kumiko's eyes widened in shock.

Finally, the truth: there really were others out there of her ilk! Though the men had not mentioned if they also bore wings, or where they were, or exactly how many of them there were... But there were others! She was not alone...

She edged closer, hoping to hear more. But the men paused their exchange for the lieutenant to draw out a keycard, which he slid into the door with a small _beep._ Kumiko realized she'd have to follow her stalkers into the maw of their facility in order to glean any more information.

She was just working up the courage to do so when the lieutenant's walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life.

 _"Hold up just a minute there, Birdwatch Seven,"_ said a slow voice.

The lieutenant withdrew his keycard and brought up the walkie-talkie.

"Birdwatch Seven here. What's happening?"

 _"Nothing to raise an alarm yet, but we need to do a double check before we can let you in."_

"What's the issue, Command?"

 _"Systems are detecting an unauthorized cell signal near you,"_ said the voice. _"Stay on standby."_

Kumiko frowned. An unauthorized signal?

And then she realized she was still holding her phone. With Google Maps open. Her stomach dropped as she frantically jammed her finger on the power button.

As she backed away in fright, the walkie-talkie buzzed again:

 _"Hold your position, Birdwatch Seven. Squads are being dispatched to secure the site."_

Kumiko turned and fled for her life.

Not today. It could not end now. She had survived that night in the woods, and she would escape this today.

Kumiko bolted across the grass toward the fence and leapt into the air, invisible wings unfolding and feathers splaying out as she whisked herself into the sky. She soared away from the facility with furious speed, not looking back. In the ripping wind she fumbled with her phone and pried out the SIM card with shaking fingers- then mustered her strength and squeezed the phone in her fist. When she opened her palm it was scorched beyond repair.

Kumiko grit her teeth and tossed away the burnt device, which could no longer be traced back to her. It shimmered into visibility as it left her touch and plummeted to the earth.

She pocketed the SIM card containing her stolen coordinates and flew onward toward the horizon, where the ruby-red sun was just beginning to rise.

Only then did Kumiko realize, in her idiotic effort to throw off any pursuers, exactly what she had done to her phone.

She had no means of navigating back home.


	16. Molto Ritmico 11: Train Ride

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 11: Train Ride**

"Kumi-hon? Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, Dad. Just tired."

"Tough day at rehearsal?"

"I guess."

"Were you practicing outdoors? Your hair's a right mess."

"Yeah."

"How's school today?"

"I don't know. Okay, I guess."

Her dad really did appear concerned, but Kumiko felt far too exhausted to make up elaborate lies to ease his worry. She had literally just dissolved her wings and stumbled through the front door half an hour before her dad got home from work, giving her barely enough time to put on her school uniform and pretend she'd just ended band rehearsal. Her brain and body both teetered on the verge of total shutdown. Short responses were the best she could manage at the moment.

"Did you stay up all night studying?" her dad asked. "You know, your eyes are all black and red."

"Yeah."

"Big test?"

"Yeah."

Her dad sighed.

"Poor Kumi," he said, in English. "Why don't you go sleep early then? I'll bring dinner to your room in an hour and check if you're hungry. How 'bout a big plate of delicious omelette rice?"

Then he startled when his daughter suddenly wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, blinking back her welling tears.

"I love you, Dad," Kumiko said, voice muffled. "I just want you to know that."

Before her confused father could respond, Kumiko ran down the hall to her room, shut the door, and fell belly-first onto her unmade bed. Then she buried her face into her pillow and started to sob quietly. She reached over for her stuffed bear and clutched it by her side as she cried like a child. Every fiber of her being hummed with overwhelming gratitude to be here: at home, in her familiar bedroom with her teddy bear in her arms and her expensive euphonium on the floor and her dad in the kitchen cooking her favorite food. Just hours ago she'd almost lost it all, as she hurtled through the sky with the roar of military helicopters behind her, and while wandering invisibly through the streets of rundown towns she didn't recognize, stealing paper maps and cheap compasses from gas stations. Her warm comfortable life had nearly slipped away from her as she'd scrambled to find her way back home.

Now she was here, curled up in the safety of her bed, and she understood like never before what it meant to be thankful.

And tomorrow, when she went back to see her amazing friend, Kumiko resolved to let Reina know how deeply she appreciated her musical help, and her advice, and how greatly she cherished hearing the sonority of her trumpet playing. Hours ago, as she had wandered through no-man's land and faced the possibility of never seeing Reina again, these were all little thoughts about her sole friend that Kumiko wished she'd spoken aloud more frequently.

Tomorrow, she'd find a way to tell Reina.

* * *

Unfortunately, the next day after rehearsal, Reina was apparently in no mood to be lavished with praise.

"Where were you yesterday?" the trumpet player hissed as Kumiko packed up her euphonium. "You literally missed a rehearsal in the first week of A-band practice?"

 _You're one to talk,_ Kumiko almost blurted in retort. But when she paused and studied Reina's expression, she realized it wasn't contempt in those purple eyes. There was only fear and worry- and Kumiko realized it was because Reina suspected the cause for Kumiko's single absence to be similar to her many own.

She was about to respond when she heard her name being called from across the band room.

"Oumae-san!" Hashimoto-sensei hollered over the din of students cleaning up in the wake of rehearsal. He was easy to spot in the crowd with his bright yellow Hawaiian shirt as he beckoned for her to come over. "A word, please."

Kumiko mentally swore. Great; the one time her new band director bothered to notice her existence at all was to rebuke her after rehearsal. Her qualifying for the A-band evidently had no effect on Hashimoto-sensei's attitude toward Kumiko, nor did it change her annoyance for Hashimoto-sensei. She reluctantly cut her way across messy chairs and music stands and busy students to the front of the room, where the teacher waited by the podium with folded arms.

She braced herself for stinging words as she bowed and said meekly, "Hai, Sensei?"

"Hey kid. Are you alright?"

Kumiko thought it was odd how gentle Hashimoto-sensei's words were, even though voice sounded surly.

"I was really sick," she answered; the canned lie she'd prepared last night. "Sorry for missing rehearsal."

Hashimoto-sensei sighed as he rubbed his scruffy chin.

"Fine," he said, keeping his voice low. "Consider it water under the bridge, since your previous attendance was unbroken."

Surprised at how leniently her band director was treating her, Kumiko immediately bowed again. "Thank you, Sensei," she said, "and I'm sorry, it won't happen-"

"- but Oumae-san... is there any reason why you didn't email me or your section leader in advance?"

Kumiko swallowed.

"I... guh... didn't know we were supposed to do that," she lied, voice faltering.

"Yes, you did," said Hashimoto-sensei sternly, lowering his glasses. His forest-green eyes bore into her, and Kumiko quickly avoided his gaze. "It was in the ensemble policy packet, and you signed a statement saying that you'd read it. Now, yesterday was a sectionals-only day, but did you know that Tanaka-san told me her plans for the bass section were affected by your absence?"

Kumiko shook her head, staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Save that for Tanaka-san," Hashimoto-sensei waved her off dismissively. "But remember, the reason we ask students to email in advance is so everyone has enough time to adjust to your absence. I'm not mad at you, but it's a good life skill and workplace habit to learn. Okay?"

Kumiko nodded.

"I'll do better next time," she mumbled, inclining her head.

To her shock, Hashimoto-sensei smiled at her and whacked her playfully over the head with a sheaf of papers in his hand. It was a friendly gesture that she was not expecting after his scolding.

"You're a good person, so I know you will," he grinned, turning to leave the band room. "Tanaka-san, she's all yours."

 _What?!_

Kumiko spun around and shrieked when she found herself face-to-face with Tanaka Asuka, who'd apparently been standing there the entire time. Any elation from Hashimoto-sensei's praise was drowned out by her shock and horror.

"S-senpai!" stuttered Kumiko. "Sorry!"

"Meh," said Asuka. "You know, I think Hashimoto-sensei covered everything I was gonna say. So yeah, do what he told you."

Kumiko was about to bow when Asuka continued in a serious voice, "Except one thing, Oumae-san."

Kumiko swallowed.

"What?"

"If I were you, I'd try not to miss any rehearsals in the future," warned Asuka. Her dark blue eyes were flat and emotionless behind her red glasses. "You're new to the A-band. Don't pull a Kousaka-san so early on. It's bad enough that you're still speaking to that girl."

At this barb, Kumiko's nervousness melted away with a rush of heated anger.

"You don't know anything about Reina," she snapped. "She's not-"

"Oh, I know. It's parental abuse or whatever, right?"

Kumiko's eyes darted up, taken aback at how cold Asuka sounded despite correctly guessing Reina's situation.

"How'd you know?"

"I overheard Kousaka-san in Hashimoto-sensei's office," said Asuka, "and I really don't care. Kousaka-san isn't the only person in this band with a tough home life, but she's the only one making a big fuss about it and missing rehearsals for no reason."

Then the drum major huffed and added, "If I were Hashimoto-sensei, I'd never have allowed someone wimpy like that into the competition band."

Kumiko's hands clenched into fists.

"What do _you_ even know about abuse?!"

Asuka-senpai laughed. It sounded cold and humorless.

"You're really out of the loop, huh?" she mused. "Well, never mind. Go and help clean up, _kohai._ See you tomorrow."

Kumiko stood speechlessly as Asuka-senpai turned on her heels slung her instrument over her shoulder, exiting the band room.

Then she smelled jasmine scent from behind her and turned to find Reina, wearing an eerily neutral expression.

"You shouldn't have said that," suggested Reina. "I'll tell you later. Let's go."

* * *

"So Kaori-senpai told you it happened last year?"

"Yeah," said Reina, as Kumiko awkwardly pinched the eupho-kun charm on her schoolbag. The two of them sat side by side on the train home. "The worst was when Asuka-senpai got slapped by her mom in Hashimoto-sensei's office. Apparently it's still bad, just not as bad as before."

"Oh," Kumiko mumbled uselessly, now slightly regretting her acerbic treatment of her section leader.

"Kaori-senpai says a lot of the band admires Asuka-senpai because she sneaked out of her house to come to every rehearsal," continued Reina. "Even if she got in trouble with her mom, Asuka-senpai still did it. She even jumped out a second story window once to show up to a performance."

"Oh," repeated Kumiko lamely, unsure of what to say- because she still didn't feel much pity for Asuka-senpai after what she'd said about Reina. Just because the drum major was strong enough to fight back against her own mother didn't mean anyone else- like Reina- could do so in the same situation. And Asuka-senpai was too blind to recognize that.

"I guess that's why the band hates me," said Reina, suddenly sounding flatter them before. "Apparently I'm not as good as Asuka-senpai. I suppose that makes me bad."

"Then I'll be bad with you," Kumiko proffered. "You shouldn't be alone in this."

Reina gave Kumiko a sad smile.

"I was mean to you before," she admitted quietly. "You don't have to always take my side, Kumiko."

Hearing her own first name from Reina's soft lips was somehow electric to Kumiko's ears. It wasn't as if she were a self-centered brat who liked hearing her own name; she didn't feel anything when Hazuki or Midori spoke her name. But Reina hardly ever used Kumiko's first name, and in those rare moments when she did... she pronounced it so beautifully that it sent shivers down her spine.

Feeling renewed in her confidence, Kumiko reached forward and cupped Reina's dejected face in her palms. Reina's cheeks felt warm and smooth and pleasantly plump in her hands.

"I don't care that you were mean in the past," said Kumiko firmly. "You're the first friend I've ever had, Reina. And... I think friends should have each others' backs. So l'll always be on your side. No matter what happens."

Reina's purple eyes fluttered closed as she smiled.

"I'm your first?" she teased, reaching up and taking Kumiko's hands into her own.

"Mhmm," said Kumiko. Reina's hands were soft around her wrists. This was... good. It felt nice.

"Well, I feel special now."

"But you already are special."

"This kind of special is better."

Kumiko smiled at that. But soon the hand-holding was becoming weirdly intimate, and neither girl knew what to do with themselves. So they broke apart and sat with their hands in their laps, Reina smiling at the floor while Kumiko blushed awkwardly off to the side. The silence that fell between them was broken only by the rhythmic clacking of the train tracks.

Then Kumiko ventured forth with, "I wish you took the train more often."

"Me too," said Reina. "I wish I came to rehearsal more often, too. Like Asuka."

"You could sneak out through the window," suggested Kumiko half-seriously, "like Asuka does-"

"- I can't."

Kumiko frowned. "You live in an apartment?"

She already knew for a fact based on her research from two nights ago that Reina lived in a single house, but she asked again now, just to be sure.

"No," said Reina, no longer smiling. "I just can't. Besides... I made a deal with my stepfather."

There it was again. This was the third time Reina had mentioned entering into a 'deal' with her stepfather, and it was honestly a little creepy. What kind of parent would ask their child to make such serious promises? And why did Reina always look so scared whenever it was mentioned?

"You know, you could secretly come," Kumiko continued. "During times when your stepfather isn't home or something. He doesn't have to know."

"He always knows," said Reina quietly.

The train began screeching to a halt at a platform as Kumiko pressed on for answers.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "How?"

Reina stood up.

"He just does," she mumbled almost inaudibly, as the door slid open and a polite voice over the intercom invited passengers to disembark.

Then Reina was heading off of the train, nodding a goodbye to Kumiko... who resolved to find out exactly what was happening in Reina's home.

That night, Kumiko stole her dad's phone to aid in her navigation, and flew her way to Reina's house based on the address she found online. But she was led by the GPS far away to a solitary darkened house, standing in the middle of a poorly tended neighborhood. Nothing about this seemed right.

When Kumiko spiraled down and landed invisibly on the ramshackle porch and folded her wings to check inside, it was completely bare and empty. Broken glass and graffiti littered the floor and walls. Wind fluttered gently through the shattered windows.

Reina's house had already been abandoned for years.


	17. Molto Ritmico 12: Sunset Duet

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 12: Sunset Duet**

The mysterious moonlit house haunted Kumiko's thoughts for several days, and she was plagued with questions about its relation to Kousaka Reina. Her best guess about the empty house she'd discovered that night was that it had something to do with Reina's past foster family. That must have been why it was associated with her name. _They weren't very nice,_ Reina had said about her previous family. _I don't want to talk about it._

Still, it was no more than speculation. Kumiko never confronted Reina directly about the ghostly house, or why it was abandoned, or why the houses around it also appeared so dark and bleak. Questions like those would have revealed too much about herself- like the fact that Kumiko spent all her free time googling Reina, and that she was able to travel such a long distance without a car. Even though Kumiko burned with curiosity, it was too risky to ask Reina about exactly what had happened.

Besides, in any case, she never had a chance to talk Reina about anything much at all. The trumpet player's attendance became increasingly spotty as rehearsals as the prefectural competition drew nearer on their calendars. And on the days that Reina did come to school, she spent every post-rehearsal minute with her trumpet, working diligently on the competition pieces with an intensity that didn't seem like she was interested in idle chitchat. So, following Reina's example, Kumiko also put aside her invisibility and radiation practicing in favor of working on band music... partially because the latter project provided her a convenient excuse to linger by Reina's side after rehearsal on the days she showed up. The companionship was nice, even if the trumpet player was in no mood to talk.

As the weather grew warmer, the school- which lacked air conditioning after club hours- became too stuffy to serve as practice space. So Kumiko shifted her practice area away from Reina to an outdoors overpass, an open-air bridge on the fourth floor above the central courtyard. The height of her new practice area was beautiful, and seemed like a tantalizing area to practice flying and diving take-offs. Kumiko had relocated here with the hopes that Reina might follow along to escape the heat... but unfortunately, Reina never did.

But one evening while Kumiko sat outdoors on the overpass, Reina unexpectedly wandered over to listen as she drilled into a euphonium soli section of _Molto Ritmico_. Her rumpled sheet music glowed with gold light in the setting sun, the same shade as the trumpet in her hands. It was the first time Reina had ever come to visit her in a while.

"You've improved a lot," murmured Reina. "Still needs work though."

Kumiko nodded appreciatively as she lowered her euphonium, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from her forehead. She was too drained right now to talk.

Then Reina said, "Can we go back inside?"

"Why?"

"I don't like heights."

Kumiko raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.

"What?" said Reina crossly. She held her trumpet in one hand and plucked up Kumiko's music stand in the other. "Can you carry your euph and your chair? I came all the way out here to get you."

"Sorry," grinned Kumiko, grabbing her stuff and walking with Reina off the overpass. "I just wasn't expecting that. You know, because it's a really un-Reina-like thing to be afraid of."

Reina side-eyed her before changing the subject. "At least you're working hard. I wish everyone else was like you too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We should be a lot better than we are by this point," grumbled Reina. "We're too close to prefecturals to sound like this."

"Coming from the girl who misses at least one rehearsal a week..."

Reina silently stopped in her tracks.

Kumiko's hand slapped over her own mouth in horror as she realized she'd said that aloud.

"SORRY!" she squeaked while her chair crashed obnoxiously on the floor the empty hallway. "Reina- Reina, I didn't mean to-"

But the trumpet player turned around, and Kumiko saw she was wearing her rare little smile.

"See, this is what I like about you," Reina explained, simpering. "You're so honest. Not like all those fake people in the band."

Kumiko thought about how she secretly stalked Reina's house and how she'd infiltrated a government facility several weeks ago. She considered her status as a nonhuman, and her hidden invisibility and radiation abilities, and how she lied to the whole band and said she was sick.

Then she muttered, "Yeah... I guess I'm pretty honest."

Reina didn't pick up on the irony in her tone as she continued more seriously, "But you're right, Kumiko. I don't get to come to every rehearsal. So it just makes me mad that people who can come to every rehearsal and have the support of their family aren't working hard and are just taking it for granted."

Kumiko realized that Reina had a good point, and it explained why she practiced so hard on the days she did come to school... but at the same time she hoped worriedly that Reina wasn't passive-aggressively talking about herself. Just to be sure, she wanted Reina to know that she she was different from the rest of the people in the band.

"A few months ago you said I wasn't special enough," Kumiko recalled. "I'm going to change that, Reina. I'll make sure I prove you wrong."

She expected some sort of matching statement after her own quiet declaration of determination, a _ganbatte_ sentiment of some kind. But to her surprise, Reina only smiled sadly at the floor.

"I wish you could," said her friend, who suddenly felt incredibly distant. "I don't think you'll ever be special enough, but I really wish you could."

Kumiko was starting to feel confused and hurt, but Reina didn't need more pain or confusion right now. She needed reassurance and encouragement. So she pressed on and insisted, "Don't stop wishing, Reina."

Reina glanced up at her through wisps of raven-black hair.

"I know you were upset about the competition last year," Kumiko said carefully, "but this year, we'll to make it to nationals. I just know we will."

Reina paused, then suggested, "So what if we actually don't?"

"Well," sputtered Kumiko, "we'll just, um... uh..."

Then Reina suddenly started giggling- a subdued melodic laugh which left Kumiko lost for words. She'd never expected such a beautiful little sound from someone usually so fiery. Perhaps it bubbled forth from the same place within this amethyst-eyed girl that hid treasures like her cute smile, and her bizarre fear of heights, and her delicate sense of musicality. Maybe Kumiko would never truly understand every facet of Kousaka Reina; she was just mysterious and unknowable like that.

"This is what I like about you," Reina chuckled, when Kumiko's hemming and hawing had trickled to an awkward halt. "You're a terrible person. What kind of person finishes off a motivating speech like that?"

Kumiko grinned sheepishly.

"Does that make me special enough?" she tried.

Reina smiled as she put down the music stand and dragged a chair over beside Kumiko, who set down her own chair beside Reina's.

"In a way, maybe," the trumpet player answered cryptically as they sat down together in the hallway.

Then Reina lifted her trumpet to her lips, the instrument flashing gold and red in the sunset beyond the windows. Kumiko took the cue and readied her euphonium, then nodded at Reina.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Alright... then, from the top of the page."

Their music soared from their horns and filled the halls of Kitauji High, graceful and vibrant. Kumiko thought of the first time Reina had played for her in person back in middle school, and how her flawless technique had put Kumiko to shame. Today they were far closer to matching as equals than ever before. Although it was because of Kumiko's own hard work in daily practices, she had to acknowledge that none of her progress could have happened without Reina by her side. Reina had helped Kumiko grow into a better person, awoken her from a slumber she'd never known she was trapped within. And as she matched her phrasing and dynamics with Reina, and breathed in the same spots in the music, Kumiko realized she'd never felt more deeply connected to another human being in her entire life, and more strongly... drawn. It was difficult to describe, and she wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling.

Maybe this was what true friendship felt like. After all, she'd never had any real friends before Reina. Besides... the alternative explanation was too much trouble to even consider.

She tried not to think about it, and instead allowed herself to immerse totally in their shared music.

* * *

Kumiko awoke the next morning to the buzz of her new phone. It was an old Galaxy Core Prime give to her by her dad for temporary use after she'd "accidentally" broke her phone, and its notification buzzing was annoyingly loud.

She unlocked the phone and checked the notification. It was an email from Hashimoto-sensei to the entire concert band.

 _Apologies,_ the subject heading read.

Frowning, Kumiko tapped open the email.

 _Students:_

 _Sorry I cannot be at rehearsal today. I am writing this from the emergency room. Details to follow. Please rehearse in sectionals after school._

 _I am alright for now. See you soon._

 _\- Hashimoto-sensei_


	18. Molto Ritmico 13: Toyota Camry

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 13: Toyota Camry**

The last thing Hashimoto remembered from that night was a flash of blinding headlights and searing heat when the truck slammed into his car. Then there was darkness, until faint sirens approached in the distance. Lights whirled before his shut eyelids and agitated voices flurried around him.

He woke up in the hospital as early morning sunlight streamed through pale curtains. His head throbbed with pain.

Apparently they'd administered stitches to the side of his forehead and treated his airbag burns, then prescribed a week's worth of rest for his concussion. Except Hashimoto didn't have a week to sit around uselessly. The prefectural round of competition was in less than three weeks, and he couldn't allow a simple car crash take him away from his students. He'd willingly skip classroom teaching for a day or two, but he refused to miss any band rehearsals. Not even the one today.

The first thing he did was locate his phone and leave a voice message with the vice principal's office number, detailing the situation and requesting a substitute. Then, just in case he couldn't make it to school, he punched out a brief email to his band students.

Less than a minute after he hit 'send,' Niiyama's caller ID popped up on the screen. Hashimoto frowned in confusion.

 _"What the hell happened?!"_ barked Niiyama through the phone when he answered. _"Don't tell me you're really in the emergency room!"_

"What- how'd you know?" said Hashimoto, confused. Only a Kita alum student could've spilled the beans. "Who told you?"

 _"You just did, you big baka! You put me on your damn mailing list!"_

Oh. Somehow Hashimoto had no recollection of doing that. He grimaced and scratched his head above his fresh bandage, where blood-matted brown hair stuck up in odd places.

"It's not bad, Nyanyama-chama," he said calmly. "I just had a car accident last night. I'm fine-"

 _"- no you're not!"_ Niiyama cut in, sounding increasingly agitated. _"Oh god, you have no idea how wrong your talking sounds right now. I'm coming, I'll be there in ten minutes!"_

She hung up before Hashimoto had a chance to protest. Though she was clearly already at work right now, Niiyama was apparently rushing to the hospital anyway. Staring at his phone, Hashimoto wondered what he'd done in his past life to deserve a friend like her.

* * *

"Absolutely not!"

"I have to go. There's micro-oriented stuff I have to rehearse with the brass."

"Masahiro-kun, you need to take care of yourself!"

"I can't. I can't stop thinking about last year."

Niiyama heaved a frustrated sigh.

"That was the single time you ever got dud gold at Kansai," she reminded him, "out of... how many now?"

"It doesn't matter," said Hashimoto stiffly. "It was awful. I can't watch those kids cry like that again."

"But does only one rehearsal really matter so much?"

Hashimoto nodded as vigorously as he could, leaving forward in the hospital bed. "I've got to stick to the calendar," he insisted. "We can't fall behind."

He shut his eyes.

"I really can't deal with my students crying," he reiterated. "I... you know, I had nightmares for days after that."

He'd never forget the terrible day last fall when Kitauji didn't qualify for nationals. Before then, his teaching career had been all sunshine and rainbows; one success after another, a higher triumph every year. Although he'd been no stranger to students bursting into tears, nothing was as bad as the aftermath of that evening in the auditorium where results were announced. For the first time, Hashimoto witnessed the horrible sight of a hundred brokenhearted children all sobbing in anguish- and it was his fault, his responsibility, and they were all his kids. He never wanted to see or hear that ever again.

Meanwhile, Niiyama made an odd face as she seemed to struggle between concern, admiration, or exasperation.

"I can't believe you sometimes," she muttered. "How are you planning to get to Kitauji though? Isn't your car totalled?"

Oh, right. Hashimoto's faithful little Camry had been towed from the fray, and he had no idea how badly it was damaged by the sleepy truck driver last night. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he realized he was essentially a sitting duck without his own means of transportation. But speaking of cars... there was one more thing he needed Niiyama to help him with.

"Nyanyama-chama, you're an absolute saint," he began. "You've done enough for me today. But... can I beg one more favor before you go back to work?"

* * *

Hashimoto winced when Niiyama slapped his fingers away from the small bandage on his forehead, as she drove toward the address provided by the towing company.

"Stop touching it," she snapped. "The doctor said it'll mess up your stitches."

"Hai," said Hashimoto demurely, his voice laced with mock-obedience. But the wound honestly itched quite badly, and it required every bit of self-control for him to ignore the urge to scratch.

The two friends continued down the road for several minutes as they shared a comfortable silence that settled between them. Hashimoto pulled out his phone, tapped open his inbox, and started replying to emails. Around a dozen of his students had written to ask about his health, and many of their well-wishes brought a smile to his face.

Then after Niiyama merged onto a highway, she glanced at him and sighed.

"Masahiro-kun," she began slowly, "have you thought seriously about what you'd do if I wasn't here one day?"

"Why?" quipped Hashimoto, still typing. "Are you finally getting sick of me?"

Niiyama shot him a dirty look.

"You know that's not what I mean," she said. "I was just thinking who would take care of you if I was out of commission myself, or moved n somewhere else in the future."

"I don't need anyone to 'take care' of me," Hashimoto muttered, finishing up his email and hitting 'send.'

Then he realized Niiyama was glaring at him, because he was sitting in her car right now, and was being cared for like a child by her.

"Except right now," he added meekly. "Sorry."

"I would've thrown your ass out the car if you didn't apologize."

"Sorry sorry. Satomi-chan, I'm really sorry about you doing this on short notice. But still... it's not like I planned to be hit by a truck."

"But that's exactly what I'm saying," Niiyama insisted. "Nobody plans on being hit by a truck, Hashi-kun. Accidents are just a fact of life. So what if something like this happens again, and this time I'm not around?"

"Then I'd call a taxi."

"Fine," said Niiyama, "but what if it's different? What if you're in a coma? Who'd make your phone calls and write the emails that you're sending right now? And if it came down to it, who would decide when to pull your life support?"

Hashimoto laughed nervously. "That got too dark too fast. If you don't mind, I think I've had enough dealings with death in the past few hours-"

"I'm serious, Masahiro."

Hashimoto looked up from his phone. Although he'd already passed age thirty, he still didn't feel old, and honestly had not considered these types of life problems much at all. Instead he'd always just banked on his fading youth to sustain him as long as possible.

When he said nothing, Niiyama continued softly, "You don't have any family left. Don't you think... maybe it's time to start your own?"

Hashimoto knew where this was going. He ducked back down into his phone.

"Nope," he said curtly, scrolling compulsively through his emails. "If anyone knew, I'd be fired on the spot."

"It's not like you need to make a big fuss of it," Niiyama assured him hurriedly. "Most of my students don't even know I'm married."

"So you mean that some _do_ know."

"I'm just saying that if you made an effort to stay low-key, it wouldn't be a problem. And your principal would be insane to fire you after all the glory you've won for his precious reputation."

"He's a raging bigot. I've heard him in the teacher's lounge."

Niiyama tsked. "You can't always please everyone, Hashi-kun. There'll always be bigots all over the place, but your needs are more important."

"Yeah. And I need to keep my job. The last thing I need is some garbage headline like _'Nationals-Regular Band Director Sighted by Parent at Gay Bar'_ to destroy me forever."

Niiyama shook her head and chuckled at his petulant sulking.

"'Gay bar?'" she laughed. "Are you still living in the eighties? There are dating apps and websites that-"

"That's not how I'd want to find a relationship anyway," grumbled Hashimoto. "It'd feel forced."

"Okay, then how about real people? Like my cousin's gay friend I showed you. Are you sure he-"

"He's too loud all the time."

"Then what about Sakurai-san from our-"

"Too short."

Niiyama sighed and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Well, we're attracted to the same gender, so we might as well have this talk," she said. "So, have you actually felt attracted to any guys in real life?"

Hashimoto shook his head silently, feeling uncomfortable now being dissected like this. No, he'd never seen anyone he found appealing, not even online or in movies. That didn't mean he never had fantasies, but it was always focused on the act itself instead of any particular man. In fact he'd never thought that way about any person in real life. It made even the prospect of dating a difficult idea to entertain, because Hashimoto had no clue what exactly he was looking for.

Meanwhile, Niiyama arched an eyebrow at him.

"Really? Never?"

Hashimoto shook his head again, embarrassed to be discussing this at all. They hadn't touched on the subject since new year's dinner at Niiyama's house, and even then Niiyama never pried this far.

Niiyama shifted over a lane and prepared to exit the highway as she said, "So you don't have a clear type of guy?"

"I guess," said Hashimoto wearily.

"Then how do you even know for sure that you're gay at all? No offense, but have you thought about it?"

At this, Hashimoto felt the overwhelming urge to slam his face onto the dashboard, and would've done so if he didn't already have stitches. He stayed quiet as Niiyama brought the car off the highway onto a local road.

"I mean," Niiyama continued innocently as she stopped at a traffic light, "maybe you just haven't met the right girl, and that's why you've subconsciously decided to be gay. You know?"

Hashimoto sighed.

"Can we not do this right now, Nyanyama?" he said. "My head hurts enough already."

Niiyama grimaced apologetically as she pulled into the gravel parking lot on the towing company's turf.

"Sorry," she offered, cutting off the engine and opening the door. "I'm just worried about you, Masahiro-kun. I hope you find someone eventually. Just... remember that you won't be young forever."

Hashimoto stepped out of the passenger side, and the two of them made their way to the small office building that stood no larger than a storage shed. After Hashimoto gave his identification and car information, they were led to a fenced-off parking lot in the back by an employee who wore an odd look on his face.

Then Hashimoto spotted his light-blue Camry.

It was _perfect._

No damage, no dents, not even a scratch, even though last night it was hit by a cargo truck.

At first Hashimoto looked to Niiyama with wide eyes and wondered if she'd gotten him some ridiculously expensive gift- but she seemed just as shocked. Besides, this was definitely his car sitting in front of him. He saw his license plate on the back, his cat charm on the rearview mirror, and dark dried blood on the steering wheel where he'd cracked his head open.

"They said this car was in an accident," remarked the employee from behind Hashimoto. "I still can't believe it. Everyone saw that the truck that hit you was absolutely destroyed."

He whistled, and added, "That tiny Camry must be one lucky car to own."

Then he tossed Hashimoto his keys, complete with familiar cat charm and teacher ID.

"No repairs needed," he said. "You can take her home whenever you're ready. I'll go open the fence so you can drive out."

He walked away, leaving Hashimoto and Niiyama gaping and slack-jawed.

After a moment's silence, Niiyama turned to him with a small smile.

"Maybe fate meant for you to be at rehearsal this afternoon," she mused.

"You think?" replied Hashimoto weakly, still in disbelief.

"I'll be behind you when you drive out," said Niiyama with a wink. "You should go to Kitauji...

... It could be important."


	19. Molto Ritmico 14: Important Things

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 14: Important Things**

Without their conductor, the band room buzzed with chaos. One hundred and sixteen band students milled about in search of music stands throughout their various preparations to break into sectionals, muttering about what could have happened to Hashimoto-sensei. Kumiko trudged wearily with the crowd toward the music stand storage area, less concerned about her band director than the others, simply because she dreaded another sectional led by Asuka-senpai. The rift between Asuka and herself had only widened since their last heated exchange. But then while she reached for a music stand, she spotted Reina, who looked extremely bothered about some unknown trouble as she clutched her equipment and instrument with white knuckles.

Kumiko quickly grabbed the stand and chased after the irritated trumpet player.

"What's with the face?" she asked, panting as she fell in step with Reina, whose gaze fell to the floor. Dark circles lining her violet eyes made her appear both exhausted and angry.

"Nothing," Reina answered curtly, walking ahead of Kumiko. "Go to sectionals, Kumiko."

"W-wait!" stammered Kumiko as she picked up her pace. "Reina! Are you okay?"

At this, Reina paused in her footsteps. Then she turned around, raven-black hair flowing softly over her shoulders.

"I just had a bad day," she clarified, sounding gentler than before. "That's all."

"But what happened?"

"Not much. Really."

Then Reina smiled slightly and added gently, "You know, you're cute when you're worried."

Kumiko blushed. But the sight of Reina's faint smile did help her feel better; Reina was an intense person, so she wouldn't be smiling if whatever was bothering her was really that bad. Perhaps the dark circles beneath her eyes were simply the result of studying for their looming end-of-trimester exams. That was a likely explanation, she decided. Schoolwork was stressful for everyone, Kita's former little valedictorian included- but it was a burden which Kumiko knew Reina could handle, unlike other problems that had no solutions in mere diligence.

"Okay," said Kumiko slowly, trusting Reina's reassurance that she would be alright. "Then... see you after sectionals."

She watched with a concerned smile as her beautiful friend nodded and continued down the hall on her way to trumpet sectionals. But Kumiko herself didn't want to leave just yet; all she wanted to do right now was to stay by Reina's side and keep her company until the weariness faded from her cheeks and a healthy flush replaced it. She wanted to feed Reina snacks and talk about music stuff until the familiar simper returned to her cheeks, and until the trumpet player started rambling knowledgeably about theory and orchestration and other things Kumiko never bothered to look up online. That was how Reina was supposed to be: fearless, confident, and well-fed. Not fatigued and frustrated and scared. It didn't sit right with Kumiko.

With difficulty, she tore her eyes away from Reina's receding form as she turned to go back to the band room-

\- and bumped face-first into a bright-pink shirt.

Kumiko looked up in shock at the unexpected presence. Forest-green eyes smiled back at her from behind blue glasses.

"Hashimoto-sensei!" she yelped. "Aren't- aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?!"

"I probably should," said her band director nonchalantly. Kumiko noticed with alarm that he wore a bandage on the side of his head, peeking out underneath his fluffy brown hair. A tiny blot of blood was starting to leak through the cotton.

"Sensei," she said slowly, "what happened to you?"

"An accident," said Hashimoto-sensei. He motioned for Kumiko to follow him back to the band room. "I have a concussion. But I just got stitches, so I'm okay now."

"You _just_ got stitches?! This morning?!"

"That's right," said her teacher. "But my car is fine, so I thought I'd come over."

Kumiko looked over her shoulder, but Reina was already gone. If Hashimoto-sensei was present, then maybe she ought to run after Reina and tell her to return to the band room for ensemble rehearsal. She was about to ask if she should do so, but Hashimoto-sensei beat her to it.

"Don't worry about the trumpets, by the way," he said. "I'll send Tanaka-san to get them. Everyone else seems to be together."

"But," Kumiko sputtered, "why are you here? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Probably. My doctor would agree."

"But... doesn't it hurt?"

Hashimoto-sensei sighed softly as they walked.

"There are more important things," he murmured. "You guys are worth it."

 _There are more important things._ It was an oddly touching thing to say. Suddenly Kumiko felt quite moved by Hashimoto-sensei's dedication to his students. Maybe he wasn't so mean after all.

But as the afternoon's rehearsal progressed into the evening, things started to go downhill. It became more and more obvious that Hashimoto-sensei's concussion was getting to him. The "irritability" symptom of his head-wound was starting to kick in.

And the trumpet section was not helping.

"This is unacceptable for this point in the trimester," Hashimoto-sensei growled at them, his usual patience starting to slip. "Play again please, with better focus this time."

The trumpets sullenly repeated the offending part. It was just as awful as before; at least half of them were cracking their notes. Even Kumiko had to agree that it was pretty bad.

Hashimoto-sensei put down his baton with a clatter and shut his eyes in exasperation.

When he spoke, his voice dropped dangerously soft.

"Please tell me I didn't just hear that from Kitauji trumpets."

When he opened his eyes, his gaze was cold.

The band watched in frozen silence. No one had ever seen Hashimoto-sensei this angry.

"Again, please," said the band director quietly, not even bothering to cue them off.

Kumiko glanced at Kaori-senpai, the current principal. Without a conductor's cue, the rest of the trumpets looked to her for guidance. Kaori hesitantly gave an unclear visual count-off before beginning. Everyone started playing at different times.

Hashimoto-sensei mercilessly cut them off before they could go on.

"Fine," he muttered. "If this is how we need to do things, so be it."

He jabbed a finger at Kaori-senpai.

"Play."

Kaori performed the difficult passage, mostly without error.

"Weak," declared Hashimoto-sensei coldly. "That poor intonation is disruptive to your peers. Next!"

In the deadly silence, the trumpets played one by one. Some of them were asked to repeat their own humiliation two or three times. Kumiko sat listening in shock; Hashimoto-sensei had never forced any section to go down the line in public before. It wasn't by any standard an uncommon technique among band directors, but was widely considered to be a rather cruel thing to do.

When Hashimoto-sensei got to Reina, Kumiko tensed and braced herself. To her relief and vicarious pride, Reina performed the passage more beautifully than any other member of the trumpet section. Yet that still wasn't good enough for Hashimoto-sensei.

"You were rushing," he lashed at her, in front of the whole band. Some people in the trumpet section were secretly snickering; finally, the arrogant Kousaka girl was being knocked down. But Kumiko frowned. Reina hadn't sounded like she was significantly ahead of the tempo.

Reina was quick to speak up for herself.

"I wasn't," she said.

"Then play again to prove it," snapped Hashimoto-sensei, without looking up from his score.

Reina immediately brought her trumpet up and reiterated the line, this time deliberately slower as if to mock Hashimoto-sensei's criticism.

"Too slow now," said the band director dismissively, not picking up on the sarcasm in Reina's playing. "Again."

Reina lowered her instrument and held it in her lap. And then, to everyone's horror:

"I'm not playing anymore."

A beat.

Then Hashimoto-sensei's quiet reply:

"Excuse me?"

Reina folded her arms and stared furiously at the floor.

"Going down the line is ineffective," she said stubbornly, "and you're wasting everyone's time-"

"If you didn't want me to go down the line, your section should have worked harder!" interrupted Hashimoto-sensei, raising his voice.

A loud _bang_ as Reina knocked her chair backward. She shot upright out of the stunned trumpet section.

"These people," she hissed, "are not my problem-"

"You cannot speak about your classmates like that!" shouted Hashimoto-sensei. _"They are your-"_

"I'm being penalized for them not working hard enough!"

"I wouldn't be criticizing you if you didn't have an issue yourself!"

"I didn't!" yelled Reina. "I was never-"

"You are too arrogant for your own good, Kousaka," condemned Hashimoto-sensei. "You-"

"YOU'RE JUST UNFAIR!" screamed Reina, hands clenching into fists. _"NOTHING EVER MAKES YOU HAPPY!"_

Her yells echoed terrifyingly in the petrified room.

Hashimoto-sensei silently closed his eyes.

 _"Get out,"_ he whispered. _"Get out and go to my office."_

Reina put her trumpet down on her chair. Then as Hashimoto-sensei watched, she violently kicked over her music stand with a ringing _crash_ , spilling her sheet music across the floor before she stormed past the low brass section.

On her way out, she paused by Kumiko's chair.

"Meet me there," Reina whispered. "Please."

Kumiko looked up into her watery eyes and unexpectedly glimpsed fear rather than anger or impatience. Up close, she saw that the trumpet player was trembling. Reina was terrified, and this was a plead for support. Swallowing, Kumiko nodded.

Reina left without another word. The sliding door clanged shut behind her, and the band was left speechless. Nobody could believe what they'd just witnessed.

On the podium, Hashimoto-sensei shut his eyes for a moment. Then he drew in a slow, deep breath.

"I'm very sorry about that," he said steadily. "Let's continue, please. Letter E: brass section, together from there."

As the brass began to play and the evening's proceedings resumed their regular course, Asuka-senpai turned to Kumiko and quietly shook her head.

 _"Don't go,"_ she mouthed.

Kumiko ignored her.

* * *

After rehearsal, Kumiko didn't even bother to put her euphonium and sheet music away before bolting out of her seat. But before she could run after Reina, Asuka-senpai leaned forward and snatched her by her wrist.

"Oumae-san," she hissed venomously. "Stay out of this."

Kumiko's eyes widened in disbelief.

"She's my friend!" she declared, still unable to believe that Asuka-senpai was trying to persuade her to abandon Reina after everything that'd just happened.

"What if you get penalized too?" Asuka-senpai narrowed her eyes. "Do you want to make the bass section look bad?"

"I said she's my friend!" Kumiko repeated angrily, yanking her wrist free from Asuka-senpai's grasp. "And it doesn't matter what any section thinks! We're all in the same ensemble!"

She'd probably regret the consequences of her outburst after they caught up to her, but right now all she could think of was Reina's terrified expression, and the fear in her purple eyes. Nothing else mattered. She ran away from the hushed whispers of the concert band toward Hashimoto-sensei's office, where she had a more important role to fulfill. Reina needed her right now and Kumiko wasn't going to let anything stop her.

Except a locked door, apparently.

Kumiko rattled the handle to no avail. She pressed her forehead against the glass and peered into the dark office, but saw no sign of Reina.

Wondering where Reina could have went, Kumiko decided to return to the band room and lurk until Hashimoto-sensei emerged. Then she could tail him into his office, and by then Reina would probably be there too. Her heart pounded furiously; she might have to defend her friend tonight in front of an angry Hashimoto-sensei, and could get in serious trouble herself for her actions. But it was a consequence she was willing to accept; after all, there were far scarier things out there in the world than a 30 year-old band director. Kumiko had already steeled herself for the possibility of revealing her wings just to protect Reina. This was nothing in comparison; if anything, it was good practice for contingency plans she might have to enact in the future.

She pushed against the bustling flow of exiting band students back toward the rehearsal room, which had nearly emptied out by now. The only people lingering behind were the trumpet section, all of them awkwardly shifting around or fidgeting with their music folders. Kumiko got the impression that they had been asked by Hashimoto-sensei to stay. She searched, but didn't see Reina among them.

When at last it came down to only the trumpets and Kumiko in the vacant band room, Hashimoto-sensei turned to her. His green eyes seemed unexpectedly calm.

"Is there something you need, Oumae-san?"

Kumiko shook her head. Then she stammered, "I- I just want to wait. For Reina. Can... can I stay, please?"

Hashimoto-sensei blinked.

"Of course," he said. "I'll be with you in a moment if you want to wait in here."

As Kumiko scampered away to the back of the room and made herself as invisible as possible without literally using her powers, Hashimoto-sensei returned his attention to the cluster of trumpet players cowering before him. Observing wordlessly, Kumiko braced herself for what was about to happen. Undoubtedly Hashimoto-sensei would now unleash a bellowing tirade of criticism on them for their incompetence in rehearsal today. Worse, he might offer nothing but chilly disappointment, which could conceivably be even more terrifying. Then he'd move on to find Reina and yell at her too, and Kumiko would be forced to shield her friend from his wrath.

She took a deep breath and prepared for the worst as the band director spoke.

"Is everyone present?" he said quietly. "Besides Kousaka-san?"

"Hai," answered Kaori-senpai. Her gaze was fixed on the floor.

Kumiko watched as Hashimoto-sensei stepped off of his podium.

"Well," he murmured, "I'll keep this straightforward."

A moment of tense silence.

Then, Hashimoto-sensei closed his eyes.

He bowed deeply, sincerely lowering himself to ninety degrees before his stunned students.

Kumiko watched, mouth agape in shock.

"I messed up," said Hashimoto-sensei softly, keeping his head down. "My actions today were impulsive and hurtful. I'm very sorry."

There was a beat of horrified silence from the students in the room.

Kumiko could not believe her own eyes. It was unheard of for a teacher to formally apologize to his students, especially not like this. Hashimoto-sensei could have simply blamed everything on the trumpets and avoided any mention of wrongdoing on his part. That would have been easier on his part, almost expected of him, and any other teacher would have done so in a heartbeat. He didn't have to apologize at all, but here he was, bowing respectfully to his students.

 _It must take exceptional bravery,_ Kumiko thought. Admitting a mistake was always harder than blaming someone else.

The silence was shattered when Kaori-senpai hurriedly spluttered, "Please- please stop, Sensei! We do, _we're sorry-"_

She rushed forward and meekly tapped Hashimoto-sensei's shoulder, and then immediately bowed when the band director straightened. Kaori-senpai's face flushed red with shame.

"I- it's our fault," she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes. "We just... we didn't work h-hard enough. I'm sorry."

Behind her, the trumpets all panicked as they bowed in apology along with their section leader.

"Please straighten," said Hashimoto-sensei gently. "It wasn't my intention to guilt-trip you, or fish for apologies. I just want you to understand why I felt the need to do this."

As his students rose, Kumiko saw some of them starting to cry. She felt little sympathy for those people because of how they'd coldly bullied Reina without second thought, but she did began to gain more respect for her band director as she watched him handle the situation.

"I was too focused today on preparing for competition, and I lost sight of what really matters," continued Hashimoto-sensei quietly. "Most students never touch their instruments again after graduation. So for many of you, this is the last band you'll ever play in. Before you leave, the most important thing isn't how many competitions you won. It matters more that you learn how to appreciate music, and how to be a good person."

Hashimoto-sensei bowed his head humbly.

"What I did today helped neither," he admitted. "I'm very sorry about that, and I hope my actions weren't too damaging."

He paused, smiled warmly at his students, and added, "I care about you kids, alright? If I didn't, I'd be resting at home instead. Nothing today has changed this. Please remember that."

As the trumpets nodded and cried, Kumiko felt something extremely strange following the end of Hashimoto-sensei's last sentence: a soothing rush of coolness fluttering through the room, mild like an autumn breeze. It was a peaceful yet uplifting sensation; the feeling of being redeemed. Kumiko thought she was imagining it- but seemingly the trumpet section experienced it too, because they started sobbing harder as the sudden feeling passed.

Then the moment broke when Hashimoto-sensei clapped his hands together.

"That said," he growled, "you punks were really a hot mess today. I don't expect instant change, but that trumpet part needs to be fixed before band camp next weekend, or else the pet hospital down the street might think we have dying animals on the premises. Got it?"

After a passionate teary chorus of _"HAI!_ from the trumpet section, and a second round of sobs, Hashimoto-sensei began shooing them out the door with a kindly smile. Kaori-senpai was the last to exit, lingering for a moment longer to offer a final word of thanks. And then at last, the band room was empty, leaving Kumiko alone with Hashimoto-sensei in the echoing silence.

When the band director caught her eye and beckoned for her to follow him out the door, Kumiko swallowed and peeled herself off the wall.

 _Here we go,_ she thought, as Hashimoto-sensei turned off the light.

 _Whatever happens, Reina, I'll be standing with you._

* * *

"You're going to sit in there with Kousaka-san?" said Hashimoto-sensei as they made their way down the hall.

Kumiko nodded.

"Hai," she said. "Is that okay?"

Hashimoto-sensei gave her a look. He seemed lightly amused.

"That's a nice thing to do," he said. "You two make a good duo."

Kumiko hesitated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her teacher raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The two of them walked along in silence for a while. Then Hashimoto-sensei chuckled quietly.

"You were right, Oumae-san."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have come today. Should've listened to the doctors. They warned me about increased irritability, and I didn't think of the long-term consequences it could have on my students."

He sighed and added, "I think I'll take tomorrow off."

Kumiko smiled.

"I hope you feel better soon, Sensei."

After tonight, many of her views had changed. She didn't hate Hashimoto-sensei so much anymore. Maybe she wouldn't need to defend Reina tonight after all.

* * *

When they arrived at Hashimoto-sensei's office, Kumiko saw with shock that the lights were on, and Reina was already standing inside- even though the door was clearly locked before. Hashimoto-sensei frowned as he slapped his teacher ID card against the electronic lock. The door beeped as he and Kumiko stepped inside.

"How'd you get in?" questioned Hashimoto-sensei, pulling out an extra chair for Kumiko.

When Reina didn't answer, he sighed and sat down at his desk. Kumiko swallowed; now that Reina and Hashimoto-sensei were in the same room, she felt her anxiety spiking again. Reina was clearly seething with anger. Kumiko prayed that she'd keep her fiery temper in check for once. She sat down awkwardly next to Reina, hoping that the trumpet player would follow suit, but Reina remained standing. In the silence that followed Kumiko glanced back and forth between her friend and band director, wondering who'd be the first to speak.

And then...

"Kousaka-san," Hashimoto-sensei began, "sit down, please. Your behavior today was really-"

 _"Shut up."_

Reina's knuckles were clenched white.

"You're all the same," she whispered, as the room fell into a cold silence. She started to pinch the gold hems of her brown skirt. _"You're all pieces of shit."_

Kumiko felt her stomach drop at the way Reina was speaking to a teacher. Wincing, she tugged at Reina's sleeve, but was ignored. She desperately hoped that Hashimoto-sensei's concussion wouldn't act up like it did in rehearsal and that he'd be able to let this go. Otherwise, Reina could be in serious trouble tonight.

Hashimoto-sensei's eyes narrowed.

"This is what I'm talking about," he said quietly. "You cannot just-"

"SHUT UP!" Reina screamed. "YOU'RE BOTH THE SAME KIND OF SHIT! _You think I'm stupid?!"_

Kumiko froze, and her heart stopped as the word _both_ echoed terrifyingly in her head. She hoped to death that Reina wasn't talking about herself in that accusation.

But Hashimoto-sensei only leaned forward in his seat. "What does that mean?" he inquired calmly.

Reina grit her teeth and wrapped a hand around her fist, nails clawing into her skin.

"I'm just a tool to you people," she spat. "I'm just a tool in my house, and he says I'm never good enough, just like you. I thought you were different. But I'm just something _useful_ to everyone, _right?"_

Hashimoto-sensei frowned.

"Kousaka-san," he started carefully, "you're very talented, but-"

He startled when Reina slammed her palms on his desk, knocking down a picture frame which fell on the floor and shattered. Her black hair whipped over her enraged face, and as the hair on the back of Reina's head parted, Kumiko glimpsed dried blood with dawning horror. Had Reina also hit her head recently? Was this going to be a disaster of two concussed people yelling at each other?

 _"SHUT UP!"_ Reina screamed at Hashimoto-sensei. "TALENTED! GIFTED! THAT'S ALL I AM TO YOU ADULTS RIGHT?! EVERYONE WANTS SOMETHING FROM ME! _You're using me to get to nationals, he's using me to protect himself, and NEITHER OF YOU REALLY GIVE A SHIT HOW I FEEL!_ HE MADE ME FORFEIT MY AUDITION AND THAT STILL WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM! AND THEN YOU SAID TODAY THAT I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH! _JUST LIKE HIM!"_

Kumiko flinched at Reina's harsh words. It was unbelievable that she'd just broken one of Hashimoto's photo frames, and was swearing in front of an authority figure. Then she panicked when she saw the look of fury darkening Hashimoto-sensei's face. Oh god, this was it. Reina was going to be expelled, and Kumiko would have to defend her friend in front of the administration...

Then Hashimoto-sensei spoke quietly, his voice laced with anger.

Kumiko braced herself. But then she heard,

"Your stepfather _forced you to fail your audition?"_

Silence.

Tears started to drip down Reina's cheeks.

"You can stop pretending to care," she hissed. "Because I'm just a bundle of talents, right? Kousaka Reina is just a collection of skills with nothing in the center. It doesn't matter how I feel. Nobody would care about me if I weren't good at-"

"That's not true!"

The words were tumbling from Kumiko's mouth before she could help herself.

Reina turned. Her violet eyes brimmed with tears.

"Remember when you played for me, in our last year of middle school?" Kumiko blurted. "Do you really think it's your trumpet playing I fell in love with? Because then you're an idiot!"

Reina looked away.

"This isn't about you, Kumiko," she grumbled. "You're not-"

"No, it _is!"_ Kumiko insisted, bolting out of her chair. Reina's breath hitched as Kumiko stood taller than her, violet eyes looking up at her. "Did you know that you changed me, Reina? I'm a different Kumiko than I was one year ago. And it's because of you! _You_ did! It's because of whatever's in your center under your talent. You're the one who showed me how to improve and how to demand more from myself and how to be a better person. _That's_ what brought me closer to you."

Kumiko swallowed and took a step closer to Reina, who seemed lost for words.

"You need to know that's why you're special!" she proclaimed. "It's because you showed me how to be a better person! Not because of your trumpet or your grades or your eyes and your hair and your perfect b-"

 _CRAP!_

Kumiko slapped a hand over her mouth in utter horror, her sloppy train of thought completely derailed. An awkward silence filled the room as she retreated and fell back down in her swivel chair, staring at the floor with her hands over her mouth. _Why did I have to let my jealousy of Reina's boobs get into this like a perverted creep? Why now?!_

 _Is it really jealousy?_ said a small voice in the back of her head. _Or is it something else?_

As Kumiko sat cringing in embarassment, Hashimoto-sensei spoke softly.

"Kousaka-san," he began, "Oumae-san is right. You aren't just-"

 _"I said to shut up!"_

Reina's cheeks were flushing red again with heated anger as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"She's different than you," she said, her tone eerily condemning. "But you're just like him. You showed that in rehearsal today. And I'm sick of being used by you."

Her hands clenched into fists as she started to cry again.

"I'm quitting band," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm sick you pretending to care."

Kumiko gasped and opened her mouth to protest- but then Hashimoto-sensei rose from his desk. His green eyes bore into Reina's.

"That," he said quietly, "would be a rash and immature decision." *

When Reina swallowed and didn't respond, Hashimoto-sensei slowly made his way around his desk to where Reina stood at the front. He knelt down in front of Reina, who watched as the teacher gently picked up the broken picture frame on the floor and carefully collected the larger shards of broken glass in his palm before tossing them in the trash. When he arose with the frame in his hands, Kumiko saw that it was a photo of the concert band from SunFes, all of the students smiling in their parade uniforms. At the front she spotted a tiny Asuka-senpai handsomely brandishing her drum major's baton.

She wondered why Hashimoto-sensei kept this photo on his desk instead of one with family members or friends, like other teachers sometimes did.

Hashimoto-sensei didn't look up from the photo as he flipped it around and began to take out the cardboard backing, picking it open.

He quietly addressed Reina as he worked.

"Do you know Tanaka Asuka?" he said.

Reina glared at the floor.

"She's one of your favorites, right?" she spat, tears dripping down her cheeks. "She-"

"She hates me," said Hashimoto-sensei softly. "But I don't value her any less, because she's my student. I see leadership, determination, and ambition in her."

He sighed.

"Those," he murmured, "are important things."

When Reina said nothing, Hashimoto-sensei glanced up at her, never pausing in his work.

He allowed a few moments of silence in the office before continuing.

"Do you know Nakagawa Natsuki?"

Reina nodded more hesitantly.

"She's one of the worst second-year musicians in this band," Hashimoto-sensei said, returning his gaze down at the frame in his hands while he removed the backing. "But I care about her, because she's my student. She showed selflessness and compassion despite being beaten by an underclassman. And that is a greatly important thing."

He looked up at Reina.

"Do you understand?"

Then he peeled the SunFes photo out of its shattered frame. When he flipped it over and held up the blank side for Reina to see, Kumiko realized that the white space was jam-packed with messy handwriting.

It was a list of one hundred and sixteen names, each one followed by a unique descriptor- _kindness, creativity, honor_ \- and dozens of others.

"You missed the photo that day," said Hashimoto-sensei regretfully. "You're here on the list, though. And you will continue to be there for the next two years, if you want to."

Kumiko strained to see the small letters, and quickly found her own name. Beside it was written _'Courage.'_ Next to Reina's was scrawled _'Passion.'_

"If I had space, that's not the only word I'd write for you," Hashimoto-sensei mused gently, while Reina's shoulders started trembling. "I've also heard you speak to Oumae-san with wisdom and sensitivity. And today in rehearsal, you showed defiance when you stood up to me. These are all extremely important things, Kousaka-san."

He handed the photo with the list of names to Reina, who took it silently.

"I'm proud to call someone like that my student," said Hashimoto-sensei firmly. "If you'll choose to remain so."

A beat of silence, save for the quiet patter of nighttime rain hitting the office window.

Reina said nothing as she slowly sank down in her chair, clutching the photo and sobbing. She suddenly looked heartbreakingly small and fragile like Kumiko had never seen before.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, tears dripping on her lap as she avoided Hashimoto-sensei's eyes. "I... I yelled at you, Sensei... I called you a piece of..."

She started to cry even harder when there was no response. There was only the sound of rain.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, clutching the photo and rising out of the chair. Her black hair fell around her face as she bowed deeply, sobbing. _"I'm so sorry."_

"It was understandable," Hashimoto-sensei murmured softly, head bowed. "It's alright. There's nothing to forgive."

Then, as Reina straightened, Kumiko felt it again: that distinct rush of coolness cascading upon them, the soothing embrace of amnesty. There was something deeply beautiful about it even if the unusual tangibility of the feeling alarmed Kumiko. She instinctively looked toward Reina, whose teary purple eyes widened, and knew that she wasn't the only one who was aware of this.

Kumiko turned her attention to Hashimoto-sensei- but then she noticed the clock on the wall behind the band director. It was already a quarter past nine- far later than they usually stayed. Kumiko knew that her own dad wouldn't have a problem with this, but as for Reina...

She swallowed.

"Reina..." she whispered, nudging her friend. "Your stepfather..."

Hashimoto-sensei looked confused for a moment before he checked his watch and realized what time it was.

"Oh god," he muttered. "I'm so sorry. I forgot."

Reina only cried harder, and Kumiko wanted nothing more than to hug her right now. But somehow, the timing felt inappropriate in their band director's office at the moment.

"This is my fault," said Hashimoto-sensei, turning and sitting down at his desk as he opened a drawer. He picked up the phone with one hand and he took out a large folder with the other, flipping it open and pulling out a sheet of paper.

"Would you like me to call your stepfather to explain things, Kousaka-san?" he asked before dialing. "I think it would help if he heard from me personally."

To Kumiko's surprise, Reina nodded as she sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Just... don't say too much," she advised. "Please just keep it short."

Hashimoto-sensei nodded.

"Also, it's pretty dark out to walk," he added, glancing out the rain-flecked window. "And it's pouring out there. Did either of you bring an umbrella?"

Kumiko glanced at Reina. They both shook their heads.

"I guess you wouldn't have planned on staying this late," said Hashimoto apologetically. "In that case, it's my fault again. I can drive both of you back home if you'll wait outside my office for just a few minutes. It's the least I can do."

Kumiko thanked their teacher along with Reina. They were about to leave before Reina stopped and returned with the photo in her hands. But Hashimoto-sensei only waved her off.

"Keep it," he offered. "Maybe it'll remind you that you're much more than what your stepfather says. You possess things of importance."

Reina faltered, then said, "But what about your list? Do you have another copy?"

Hashimoto-sensei smiled.

"You think I haven't already memorized it?"

* * *

Kumiko offered another round of thanks along with Reina, grateful that she wouldn't have to walk to the train station in the downpour, before exiting the office and shutting the door. The hallway outside the office was echoingly empty. Without students milling about or hushed voices in classrooms, the nighttime school actually seemed quite creepy.

The two girls silently sank to the linoleum floor, suddenly exhausted after the intense exchange.

Then Kumiko saw Reina leaning her head back against the wall, wincing in pain- and remembered Reina bore a wound beneath her raven-black hair.

"Reina..." she whispered, "what happened to your head?"

"Nothing," said Reina tiredly, rubbing her red eyes. She seemed too drained to even come up with an excuse.

Kumiko hesitated- then decided resolutely that it was now or never.

"D- do you..." she stammered awkwardly, "do you think it'll be better to lie on something softer?"

Reina tilted her head curiously and stared at her in confusion. So then Kumiko daringly ventured forth with one arm, blushing as she awkwardly tipped Reina over from a seated position until her head plopped onto Kumiko's lap. Then she braced as she waited for the _tsundere_ trumpet player to scoff and pull away- but to Kumiko's astonished satisfaction, Reina only smiled and closed her eyes as she curled up and snuggled on Kumiko's lap against her stomach. Her head was warm on her thighs, and soft black hair flowed across Kumiko's skirt. Jasmine scent filled the air, and she could feel Reina's gentle breath on her knees.

"You smell nice," Reina murmured- and Kumiko's heart threatened to leap from her throat. She swallowed and tried to hold still for Reina, pressing a cold palm to her face to help cool the sudden flush of heat and hide her redness.

They stayed like that for a while, Kumiko trying to enjoy the present despite her entire brain secretly going haywire at the sensation of Reina curled up against her lap. Then before she could help herself, Kumiko started stroking Reina's hair, delighting at how silky it felt between her fingers. Reina hummed softly with contentment, and suddenly the whole moment felt like a wonderful dream.

To Kumiko's surprise, Reina reached over and took Kumiko's other hand, her thumb running over her palm and clasping her hand in her own.

"I thought you were afraid of Hashimoto-sensei," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come."

"I wasn't sure either," said Kumiko without thinking- before cringing. "I mean," she added hurried, repairing her blunder, "that's not really... what I meant..."

"Still too honest," Reina lilted with a spreading smile, squeezing Kumiko's hand. "But I'm glad you did."

Kumiko paused her playing with Reina's hair allowed herself a shy smile as Reina shifted her head on her lap. But then Reina reached up with her other hand and insistently nudged Kumiko's hand on her head.

"Don't stop," she growled, and Kumiko obliged with the petting.

As she ran her fingers through Reina's hair, Kumiko glanced down at the photo with the list of names lying on the floor. She pondered out loud, "I wonder why I got assigned 'courage' if I'm always so scared of everything."

"Mm," Reina purred, "maybe that's the thing."

"The thing?"

"Mhm," said Reina, leaning comfortably into Kumiko's touch. "Maybe you can't have courage without being scared. I mean... if you don't feel scared when you do something, it's not really brave anymore, right?"

Kumiko had a sudden impulse- one that would most certainly cross the line of labels, that could change everything between Reina and herself. But as she looked down and saw Reina lying faithfully in her lap after a long day of anger and pain and fear, finally enjoying Kumiko's ministrations... it wouldn't be fair to spring that on Reina while she remained in this state of exhaustion. Not now. Maybe never.

Still, there was definitely something floating in the air between them, a nebulous question mark hovering above their heads that would remain untouched for as long as need be. Both of them seemed aware of its existence, yet neither had ever acknowledged it aloud. Kumiko hoped that Reina's responses to her touch tonight were a sign that she could make another move forward, but it was impossible to know for sure. In the end, it would require a leap of faith.

If courage was defined by how much terror experienced, then Kumiko might soon have to do something very, very brave. But for now, she closed her eyes and smiled as she combed her fingers through Reina's soft hair.

This was enough happiness for tonight.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:** Many events from this chapters were taken word for word from my own real-life experiences in high school band. _

_The parts that were based on real life was: A) my band director showed up directly to rehearsal after getting stitches at the ER (not from a car crash... from sleepwalking in his bathroom, haha.) B) The yelling in rehearsal, followed by a student screaming swear swords at my band director, followed by my band director comforting that student and forgiving him... it actually happened in real life, almost word-for-word. I was the Kumiko who he asked to come with him because he was scared. Basically I was a fly on the wall the whole time. It was really moving to watch._

 _Also I'm sorry about the Spongebob reference. :)_

 _Things are getting more exciting from here on out. Stay tuned! Please follow my tumblr tag for updates :D ( **tagged/aita** )_


	20. Molto Ritmico 15: Head Wound

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 15: Head Wound**

Hashimoto clutched the parental contact sheet while he sat and stared at Taki Noboru's name, his hand hovering uncertainly toward the telephone. Then he rubbed the side of his stubbled face and teetered with hesitation, mentally debating whether or not this call was a good idea. Kousaka's foreboding descriptions of Taki from their previous conversations echoed in his head:

 _"He made me forfeit my audition..."_

 _"He's using me to protect himself..."_

 _"You might say something wrong... it could be bad. For you, Sensei._

Hashimoto's intuition told him that this was a different situation from last year's Tanaka family incident, despite the similarities between Tanaka's hints and Kousaka's warnings. He felt the peculiar sense that some awful disaster would result from the phone conversation he was about to initiate, but he had no choice; the consequences would fall on Kousaka's shoulders if Taki were not properly briefed about the nature of his stepdaughter's tardiness. That was unacceptable; Hashimoto couldn't allow himself to be responsible for that.

He made a final decision, and began to dial.

Picking anxiously at his head bandage while he waited, the band director speculated what he might find on the other side; perhaps a low growl, or creepy voice. Maybe Taki would lose his temper over the line. There might be a chance to personally hear Taki's brutality, which could potentially be a note to add to the evidence file he'd been keeping on Kousaka Reina. Hashimoto had to be prepared for anything.

Several short rings later, someone picked up.

 _"Hello?"_

Hashimoto blinked in surprise. This was not what he'd been expecting.

Suspiciously, he asked, "Is this... is this Taki Noboru-san?"

 _"Hai. Who am I speaking to?"_

Hashimoto could not believe his ears; the silvery voice on the other end sounded youthful and gentle, even if the words were somewhat curt. Taki seemed remarkably pleasant for a man who regularly hurt his adopted daughter. Noting the strangeness, Hashimoto answered carefully.

"This is Kousaka Reina's band director from Kitauji High School," he said, choosing his words with caution. "Your child stayed behind after rehearsal with her peers at my direction. I'd appreciate it if you could please pardon her lateness."

 _"It's not a problem,"_ Taki assured him cordially. _"She's on her way?"_

Astonished by the total lack of malice, Hashimoto continued, "I'm driving her and another student home in a bit, since it's dark and rainy and everything. Will that be alright?"

 _"Hai, thank you. Is that all?"_

"Uh... yes," said Hashimoto, raising his eyebrows, "she'll be home soon. Please don't blame her. I was the one who asked her to stay."

 _"Understood,"_ Taki said nicely. _"Thank you for calling. Good night."_

And then he hung up.

No honorifics, no significant thanks, no bid to pick up his child himself, not even any offer to confirm the address on the contact sheet. Just concise succinctness in that polite tone. As a teacher Hashimoto had never been treated so rudely, especially not by anyone with such a beautiful voice. He felt chills running down his spine, unsettled by the dissonance of Taki's gentle coldness- even more so because he knew for a fact that behind the speakers was the cause of Reina's numerous injuries. Yet strangely, despite all this, there was nothing fake-sounding about Taki or his silvery voice. Hashimoto would've read Taki as simply a nice man with unusual manners if he didn't know about Reina's situation.

He wondered what Taki looked like in person.

He wasn't sure if he really wanted to find out.

* * *

Hashimoto stood up and collected his belongings to leave. Zipping his work bag shut, he picked at his head bandage again, which had started to itch. Somehow it didn't hurt, so he slipped a pinky beneath the dressings to scratch-

\- but felt no scar.

Frowning, Hashimoto cautiously peeled off the bandage and ran searching fingers over his forehead, feeling for bumps and stitches. His eyes widened when his hand came away from the painlessly-smooth skin with nothing but the reddish-brown residue of dried blood.

His head wound from just this morning was already healed.

Hashimoto weighed the possibility that this entire car accident fiasco had just been a vivid hallucination. Yet here he stood with a bandage on his head and dried blood on his fingertips- so it must have really happened. In any case, he felt too exhausted to throroughly appraise the situation on the spot and wanted nothing more than to be home in bed right now with a mug of tea.

Besides, he had two kids waiting outside for him. They needed to get home too, and the poor girls probably still had homework to resolve before bedtime. This was no time for him as a teacher to be dawdling.

Still, something told him that this was not information to be shared, so the band director frowned and pressed the bandage back on his forehead to hide the evidence before slinging his bag over his shoulder and moving to turn off the lights and open the door. It swung open to reveal a heartwarming sight: Oumae sitting dazedly in the darkened hallway as rain pattered on the windows, Kousaka curled on the floor with her head resting on her friend's lap. Her black hair was draped over Oumae's knees, eyes closed as her chest rose and fell peacefully. It was almost a shame to interrupt them.

Oumae's orange eyes glanced up awkwardly as Hashimoto quietly closed the door.

He motioned at Kousaka and silently mouthed, "Sleeping?"

Oumae nodded wordlessly.

Hashimoto sighed as he smiled gently.

He slowly squatted down in front of the duo.

"Kousaka-san," he whispered, reaching out and patting her head, "it's time to- _AH!"_

White-hot pain seared Hashimoto's body as he cried out and collapsed against his office door. The back of his head felt as if it were phyisically splitting open, and everything flashed colorless for a moment. Paralyzed with shock, he lay gasping and crumpled on the floor as the pain receded. The crash jolted awake Kousaka, who flinched and rolled off Oumae's lap. They both scrambled toward him across the linoleum tiles.

 _"SENSEI!"_ Oumae shrieked.

Then Hashimoto saw his students' faces hovering above him. Feeling awful to see how worried they looked, he pushed himself upright with a groan. His limbs felt marred by bruises and sores.

"Are- are you okay?" said Kousaka nervously.

Hashimoto forced a casual smile as he stood up shakily and adjusted his lopsided glasses.

"I'm fine," he tried to say in his normal offhand voice, but the words emerged cracked. He coughed and laughed it off as his students watched suspiciously. "Probably just... probably something from when I hit my head on the steering wheel last night. I think just need rest."

"Steering wheel?" said Oumae suddenly, as she and Kousaka climbed to their feet. "So you were in a car accident... but then how are you driving?"

Hashimoto tested his office door handle to make sure it was locked _(he still wasn't sure how Kousaka entered without an ID today)_ before motioning for his students to follow him down the hallway toward the stairwell.

"I got lucky," he said. "You'll see."

As they walked, Kousaka asked carefully, "Are you sure you're okay?"

The band director nodded and turned with a smile as he ignored the lingering pain in the back of his head and made every effort the conceal the limp he'd suddenly developed in the past two minutes.

"Never better," he grinned. "Thanks for the concern."

But in reality... Hashimoto was terrified.

This was not the first time he'd experienced sudden agony.

The last occurence was a few months ago when he'd taken Sweet Potato to the vet on Niiyama's behalf. That morning the pain had blazed to life just as ruthlessly as tonight; he'd nearly dropped the calico cat when Niiyama first lowered her in his arms. He remembered passing it off as static electricity from Sweet Potato's fur.

It wasn't a big deal at the time, since he'd been more preoccupied with calming down Niiyama's sobbing breakdown over her cat's infection (which mysteriously disappeared before Hashimoto arrived at the vet several minutes later), but now it had happened again after he'd patted Kousaka's head. The pain definitely didn't feel like static electricity. Now Hashimoto wondered if he was showing early signs of some terrible disease.

He considered going to the doctor for a check-up, but then remembered the healed skin of his forehead hidden beneath the bandage. There was no way to investigate one problem without spilling the other.

Something abnormal was happening to Hashimoto, and he didn't know what to do.

* * *

 _"Tensions between Tokyo and Beijing escalate higher than ever after Nakamura Tomokazu's close-call last evening on the island of Masa. Nakamura-san continues to recover in his palatial abode within Masa's Temple of the New Prophet. A statement released by the Nakamura sextuplet sons claims that their father is 'doing well' and 'will shortly resume clerical services to the faithful of Masa.'"_

 _"However it is difficult to assess the reality of the situation, as relations among the Nakamura sextuplets are worsening as this transfer of generational family power looms closer by the day. In addition, the Nakamura family's-"_

Hashimoto shut off the radio with a _click_ as he drove toward Kousaka's house. The blue Camry glided across the mirror-like nighttime road with subdued thunder rumbling away in the distance. Raindrops pelted the windshield, periodically cleaned away by wipers squeaking back and forth across the glass.

All day everyday it seemed every news outlet had nothing else to report on other than that stupid cult island, drumming it up to be a precedent for some kind of potential third world war. But any sane person knew that the Japanese government wouldn't risk the peacetime of the entire globe for one miniscule island infested with crazies. It was all just sensational garbage to make people paranoid. So instead Hashimoto turned the radio to a local classical music station, which was playing Satie's first Gymnopedie. It was a much better change.

Without the buzz of newscasters, the band director started listening toward the backseat, where Oumae and Kousaka had started chatting quietly about their Japanese essay exams.

"What'd you write for the one about the cat prompt?" Kousaka was saying.

"I don't think my class got that," said Oumae, giggling softly. "You honors class people are probably ahead."

"You didn't miss much."

"What was it about?"

"Why?"

"I dunno, we might get it later after you're done with it."

"Maybe," Kousaka agreed. "It's just this story about this cat who falls in love with a leaf. He looks at it everyday, but eventually he wants to keep it for himself, so he pulls it off the tree. But then the cat accidentally rips the leaf in his claws. And then he cries himself to death."

Hashimoto's leaf-green eyes glanced in the rearview mirror at his students at the mention of the familiar story.

Oumae said dazedly, "That's weird and depressing."

"Yeah."

The story of the cat and the leaf was a fairytale that Hashimoto hated as a child, but had long forgotten about. The full version contained far greater detail. Somehow it always chilled him to the bone for weird reasons that he couldn't pin down; it just gave him bad feelings. There was another one with a similar message that he preferred about a fisherman and a wavelet, because of the happier ending. But the version that Kousaka summarized ended in the unintentional destruction of something pure and innocent, and it was just too dark for Hashimoto's preferences.

A minute of silence ticked by as they drove down the rain-washed road.

 _"In one hundred meters, turn right,"_ chirped the GPS in the lull.

Then:

"Ne, Reina?"

"Hm?"

"Why'd you have to listen to your stepfather? About the audition?"

Hashimoto narrowed his eyes as he fixed his glasses and squinted into rearview mirror, curious for the same answer Oumae was now exacting from her friend. Oumae's orange eyes were wide with concern while Kousaka stared down at her lap, expression unreadable.

"I made a deal," said the trumpet player quietly.

"But you didn't have to tell him if you got principal again," Oumae maintained, "right? He doesn't have to know-"

"He does."

"But why?"

Kousaka turned with her hands clasped, purple eyes gazing out the window as the glow of streetlights passed over her dark hair, while Hashimoto made the turn and glanced at the map on his phone. His kept his ears trained on the girls' exchange; it was valuable information to be gleaned about both Kousaka and Taki.

"Because," said Kousaka softly, "once you make a deal with him, you can't decide anymore."

"Then why are you always making deals with him?" Oumae blurted. "You're always talking about deals and-"

Kousaka huffed a humorless laugh.

"There was really only one," she disclosed. "It was when I was nine. I guess I ruined everything at nine years old."

"Nine?!" Oumae exclaimed, and Hashimoto had to admit that he was just as confused by Kousaka's declaration that the entire course of her life had been affected by one deal. "That was like six years ago! That shouldn't matter now, right?"

Kousaka sighed.

"It still does," she muttered. "That's just how it is."

Their conversation was interrupted when Hashimoto's GPS piped up, _"Turn left. Your destination is on the right."_

Hashimoto signaled before making the turn. On the nighttime street, the blue Camry pulled up next to... a church.

 _"You have arrived at your destination,"_ announced his phone.

Hashimoto adjusted his glasses and glanced past the rain-speckled window at the simple chapel, a Catholic church in Uji that he'd never really bothered to notice before. It wasn't anything grand; just an unimpressive stone structure with a cross atop a short spire on the roof.

The band director put the car into park and twisted around in his seat, raising an eyebrow as Kousaka unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Your home is a church?"

Kousaka nodded.

"Hai," she affirmed. "My stepfather's a priest, so we live in the rectory."

"Oh," said Hashimoto with relief, who'd been imagining with horror Kousaka sleeping on wooden pews and doing her homework with a flashlight. Though he knew next to nothing about churches or the life of a priest's family, it was easy to infer from 'rectory' that Kousaka and Taki at least had proper living spaces. Hashimoto unfastened his own seatbelt and grabbed his umbrella to escort his student in the rain to her front door.

For some reason, Oumae insisted on tagging along despite the downpour. So the band director took both kids under his wing and let them huddle under the umbrella. They shuffled together up the cobbled path around the church to a three-storied dorm-style building in the back.

This had to be the rectory Kousaka mentioned, thought Hashimoto. They reached the building and ducked away from the rain under the concrete-roofed outdoor stairwell, where an orange-glowing lamp shone on the roofed steps to the third floor. Night moths fluttered in the amber light while evening cicadas chirped away in the rain.

At the steps, Kousaka turned and bowed. The rain dripped like a veil behind her.

"Thank you so much for driving," she said, straightening. "I'm fine from here. I don't need the umbrella for the steps."

"We can come," Hashimoto offered, looking at Oumae. "It's not much of a climb to the-"

"Thanks, but it's best if you both didn't," said Kousaka, before turning to Oumae with smiling purple eyes. And then Kousaka wrapped her arms tightly around Oumae and buried her face in the brown curls, squeezing tightly as she said in a muffled voice, _"Thank you. For everything."_

Hashimoto saw Oumae's face flush red, almost imperceptible in the orange light, as the taller girl awkwardly patted Kousaka's back.

As they broke apart, Kousaka's purple eyes met Hashimoto's.

"See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Sensei."

Hashimoto smiled at the subtle affirmation that she'd remain his student in concert band.

He and Oumae turned to leave, ducking together under the umbrella into the night rain. But several yards away from Kousaka's rectory, they both paused as if synchronized and turned around at an angle where Kousaka's floor was now visible. Hashimoto stood in the mud and watched with Oumae as Kousaka turned and made her way up the winding stairs. First floor... second floor... Third floor. Then the girl was standing in front of her door, digging through her schoolbag for her keys as her band director and best friend observed anxiously below with bated breath.

In the edge of his vision, Hashimoto glanced at Oumae, whose orange eyes were transfixed on the shadowy door.

"You too?" he muttered.

Oumae nodded wordlessly.

Then Kousaka found her keys. The door swung open, and in the gap of darkness...

... there was nothing. He and Oumae both sighed with disappointment when Kousaka simply entered and shut the door behind her.

Apparently today was not meant to be the day they'd discover exactly what Taki Noboru looked like.

The two of them remained rooted there for several seconds, standing dejectedly in the chilly rain, until Hashimoto laid a gentle hand on Oumae's shoulder.

"Let's get you home, kiddo," he murmured. "There's nothing else we can do for her right now."

Oumae nodded stiffly. Hashimoto re-adjusted his grip on the umbrella; his limbs felt more bruised and sore than usual after the incident in the hallway. Wincing at the renewed pain in his leg, he continued to hide his limp as they continued away from Kousaka's home.

He hoped the phone call would be enough to protect his student from Taki for this evening, but it was impossible to be sure of the intentions behind Taki's silvery voice. Ideally Kousaka was peacefully heading to her room right now and getting started on her homework, with no one to interrogate her or yell at her. Above all, Hashimoto prayed that he wouldn't see any more limps or bruises on her tomorrow in rehearsal- assuming she was allowed to attend.

They had just crossed the the grassy area of the rectory and started across the church toward the street, when Oumae's steps faltered.

The girl slowed to a halt on the rain-soaked path.

Hashimoto turned.

He saw large tears spilling from the orange eyes.

"Hey," he said helplessly, "hey... Oumae-san, it'll be... don't worry..."

But it was no use. He could not say the word 'alright,' because that would be a false promise; there as no way to know if it would really be alright in the end. Kousaka's fate under Taki's roof was not within his ability to guarantee.

Oumae twisted the hem of her skirt with agitated fingers, eyes squeezed shut as more tears trickled down her cheeks, mixing with the rainwater. Her shoulders shook with hitching sobs.

Hashimoto grimaced. He switched the umbrella to another hand before reaching out and gathering the fluffy-haired girl into an one-armed hug, heaving a pained sigh as he let the kid cry into his shoulder under the umbrella. Lightning flashed upon the church behind their backs as rain poured around them.

 _This girl really loves her friend,_ thought Hashimoto. Oumae had taken a great risk today by remaining in his office during his exchange with Kousaka. She was a freshman who didn't understand his personality well, and had no way to knowing how the situation would have unfolded- yet she'd chosen to stay for her friend, for Kousaka. This was someone extremely loyal and daring. It was best for him as a teacher to subtly encourage those qualities, and show her that her nerve tonight had not gone unnoticed in his eyes.

"Oumae-san," he said quietly, letting go of his student, "you were extremely brave to stay in my office for Kousaka-san. But at some point we've all got limitations."

He patted the kid's trembling back.

"You did your very best today," he said. "You're a good friend. And that's enough."

Oumae wiped tears from her eyes.

"R-Reina was bleeding," she sobbed. "Her h-head was _bleeding._ Her stepdad _did that to her."_

"I know," said Hashimoto softly, sighing. "I know."

They remained still for several long minutes as Oumae's tears subsided, until she sniffed and turned away. She mumbled an apology for keeping her teacher in the rain.

Hashimoto told her honestly that it wasn't necessary.

Back in the car, windshield wipers squeaking on the glass as they rumbled down the road with Oumae's home address plugged into Hashimoto's GPS, Oumae spoke up again.

"I wish Reina could move in with me," she muttered.

"Well," said Hashimoto reasonably as he drove, "adopting a child is a huge responsibility. Your parents probably couldn't-"

"I'm adopted," Oumae contended.

Hashimoto turned, intrigued.

"That's funny," he mused, smiling. "So was I."

"Reina's adopted too," said Oumae. Hashimoto nodded; he'd already known that. Aside from it being listed on Kousaka's contact form, it was also easy to tell with Taki and Kousaka's differing last names.

 _A car full of orphans,_ he thought.

"Just out of curiosity," he said, "I don't mean to pry. But from one adoptee to another... did you know your birth parents?"

Oumae shook her head.

"... did you, Sensei?"

"Nope."

An awkward silence settled between them. But despite the uncomfortable nature of the topic, Hashimoto felt that he understood his student better over the course of the evening, just as he'd felt when he learned of Kousaka's situation. He could relate on a bone-deep level to the enigma she must grapple with at times, the same as he used to ponder over _(as he still does.)_ Who gave him his green eyes? Who did he inherit his brown hair from? Did they die, or did they lose him, or did they abandon him? Were they still looking for him? He glanced over at Oumae and saw that her orange eyes had glazed over. Perhaps she was now considering those same questions.

It was only another minute or so before they reached Oumae's apartment complex, where Hashimoto was greeted by a lovely American couple at the gates. They introduced themselves before bowing and thanking him, taking their daughter under a large umbrella. Oumae smiled and waved at him before leaving with her parents to what must be a warm, cheery home- a stark contrast to the darkness of Kousaka's solitary church housing.

When Hashimoto got back to his own silent apartment, he tossed his keys on the coffee table and immediately collpased onto the couch, letting out a slow sigh. He felt beaten and bruised all over, and the back of his head still throbbed badly from the incident in the hallway. He reached up to touch the stinging area- and felt a warm wetness.

Frowning, Hashimoto flipped over.

There was a spot of blood on the cushion he'd been lying on.

 _Maybe that's where my scar was,_ he thought, climbing to his feet to find a towel. The concussion probably made him confused enough to think it was on his forehead, when really the wound had been on the back of his head all along. That was the only likely explanation.

He was too sleepy to entertain any other possibility.

* * *

Reina sat on her bed, dazed.

She had just started to change out of her school uniform. But when she pulled down her thigh-high socks, every single one of her scrapes and bruises had vanished. For the first time in months, her legs looked completely smooth and unblemished.

Blinking in confusion, Reina reached around and gingerly ran her fingers beneath her hair. She carefully felt around on the back of her head for her bleeding wound.

It was gone.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:** Lots of foreshadowing in this chapter- particularly that fairytale... and the news report..._


	21. Molto Ritmico 16: Permission Slip

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 16: Permission Slip**

"You know we've only got two weeks left until prefecturals?"

"Mhm."

"And mini-camp is this weekend?"

"Mhm."

"So has your stepfather... did he sign your permission slip yet?"

Reina stared at the trumpet she clasped in her pale hands, the one Father Taki had bought for her after he'd plucked her out of that godforsaken orphanage. She knew that she owed him everything- her life, her safety, her future- and yet she still found herself wondering if things could have been better if she'd turned down Taki's offer six years ago. What if she had chosen instead to forge a life on her own?

In any case, the past was immutable and irrelevant. Here she was now. All that mattered was how the future might unfold from here on out.

"I don't know," Reina admitted. That was all she could say to Kumiko _(just a friend, nothing more)_ without blatantly lying. "Maybe. Why?"

Standing above her, Kumiko's hand tightened imperceptibly on her music folder as she said, "Well... I was just thinking about rooming sign-ups. You know, about... if you wanted to sleep with- I mean room with me."

Reina peeked up through her bangs and studied those wide amber eyes.

She smiled.

"I'll tell you when I get my form signed," she agreed, feeling her cheeks tinge red. "I promise I'll ask."

"You will?" said Kumiko with a look of surprise.

"Don't say it like that," Reina snapped. "You're making it sound like _I'm_ the terrible person here."

"Then we can both be terrible together," the euphonium player declared enthusiastically- which made absolutely no sense.

Reina had never heard anything more stupid and yet more endearing.

* * *

Originally Reina had hoped that Kumiko would stay and practice with her, but apparently the curly-haired weirdo had dinner plans with her family. So after they said their goodbyes for the evening, Kumiko left the band hallway and Reina sulkily sought a corner to practice her music alone.

The first place she checked was the main band room. The large classroom had become her favorite location to practice; it allowed her to fearlessly project her sound compared to the confined feeling of smaller rooms. Usually the band room remained empty after rehearsals, but today she wasn't as fortuitous. Somebody else was using it. In the middle of the band room sat Kitauji's giant marimba, all five octaves of resonators and rosewood gleaming in the fluorescent light. Playing it was the band's principal percussionist, Knuckles. He gripped a stick in each hand like lollipops as he banged out some comically arduous music with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Reina glared at him through the window for several irritating seconds through the before turning on her heel to find somewhere more peaceful.

 _The one day I actually have time to practice,_ she fumed mentally, _and not only does Kumiko have to go home, but this dude is also hogging the band room. On a marimba. That's my luck._

Out of all the instruments in the band, Reina hated mallet percussion the most. Glockenspiels, marimbas, vibraphones, xylophones... all those silly 'lollipop' instruments sounded mocking and childish and clown-like. They embodied everything she despised. And the worst one was the marimba: the instrument which Knuckles whacked right now with his two little lollipops. Its mere presence made everything sound like a goddamn tropical island, like Hashimoto-sensei's weird Hawaiian shirts. Reina honestly believed that marimbas had no business being amongst graceful wind instruments in a concert band. Or maybe she was just extra-irritated because of Kumiko's untimely dinner plans.

She got away as far as possible from Knuckles before settling down to practice her parts in _Dance Movements: Molto Ritmico._

Trapped in a smaller classroom, her trumpet sounded muffled and gloomy.

* * *

 _Click. Click. Click. Click._

Hours crawled by to the clockwork of Reina's metronome.

It was impossible to adjust to Kumiko's absence.

Usually Reina was the one who had to flee on the tails of every rehearsal. Because of that, it was always Kumiko who ended up practicing alone, but now Reina was the one stranded without companionship in an empty school.

She stared blankly at the sheet music folder propped open on her stand. _Click, click, click, click._ Was this loneliness? Reina had never really felt lonely before. Preceding loneliness was the prerequisite of having someone to lose, which had never been one of her major concerns. In fact, it was safer if fewer people approached her, because isolation had always equaled security throughout Reina's entire life. In detachment she took comfort- even pride. To be socially rejected, after all, was to be special.

But back then, no one had had come as close as Oumae Kumiko. And Oumae Kumiko was coming damn close. Reina knew she was heading into dangerous waters. She knew herself well enough that she recognized what she felt whenever Kumiko made weird noises, when she saw the girl shuffling down the hallway with bouncing brown curls, when those amber eyes lit up with fury on occasion, and the pleasure of knowing Kumiko stood just two centimeters taller than herself... And the bliss of lying in Kumiko's lap, savoring the illusion that all was well in the world...

If Reina fanned the flames of her own attraction, it could end badly. The last time she'd kissed a girl, when she was nine...

Three children had died that day, their blood and brains splattered on the pavement below, and it had been her fault, _all my fault..._

Reina swallowed and put down her trumpet. It was a memory she wanted to douse in gasoline and burn.

 _This is different,_ she reminded herself. _I'm older now. I'm smarter. It won't happen again._

 _Click. Click. Click. Click._

Only then did Reina realize that she'd been staring blankly at her sheet music for well over half an hour with the metronome ticking away in the background. If she was going to waste time here pining over Kumiko, she might as well head home and make herself useful to Father Taki. She needed to keep a good record with him, to exchange her helpfulness for favors from him later down the road. Tit for tat.

As Reina reached for her music folder and flipped it shut, the band camp permission slip slipped loose and fluttered down to the linoleum floor.

 _I promise I'll ask,_ her words to Kumiko echoed in her head.

Reina reached down and retrieved the form. She made up her mind. The raven-haired girl packed up her trumpet, snapped the case shut, and left the room.

It was worth a shot.

* * *

Hashimoto-sensei's office turned out to be locked and unoccupied. But Reina spotted his work bag lying on the desk and an umbrella propped against the file cabinet, so she knew the band director was still in the building. The next logical room to check was only a bit further down the hall.

When Reina neared the band room, she heard soft marimba sounds again. _Why is Knuckles still here?_ she fumed silently. _Why does he always have to play that clownish instrument?_

She turned to leave- until she realized the music didn't sound clownish at all.

There was no way this was Knuckles. Whoever it was now played with a painfully gentle touch, quiet and thoughtful in a way Reina had never thought possible for a percussionist. She slowed to an inaudible tiptoe and approached the windows in the band room doors.

Curiosity piqued, she peeked through the glass... and saw Hashimoto-sensei. _Oh that's right, he has a degree in percussion performance._ The band director stood playing the marimba with four mallets. He gripped two in each hand, head bowed as he concentrated and moved gracefully before the keyboard instrument, effortlessly maintaining enough control over all four mallets to hit the right notes.

Reina had never seen technique like this before. The soft music didn't sound frilly or cluttered like Knuckles' annoying ping-ponging, but she had the feeling that Hashimoto-sensei was demonstrating a far higher level of mastery.

She was about to knock and enter when her musical ear picked up an important detail about the band director's playing, crucial enough that she paused and retreated from the door. _Organic._ That was the word to describe her band director's music, free-flowing and honest- because Hashimoto-sensei currently improvising, putting his whims and emotions into music. He'd probably assumed the school was empty by now and had decided to open a self-dialogue in solitude.

Reina knew that she had stumbled on a private moment; it'd be a crime to interrupt Hashimoto-sensei like this. She herself understood well the vulnerability and intimacy of of improvising alone. In fact, no one had ever heard her improvise before.

So, she smiled and turned away from the door. It hadn't been an appropriate time to ask about the permission slip, but she was glad she got to hear Hashimoto-sensei play his instrument of study. When a musician improvised, their true self was revealed in their music. And what Reina heard was warm and playful and gentle, with a slight hint of... something that sounded like sadness. There was really a lot more to Hashimoto-sensei than she'd always assumed; beneath the dumb gawdy facade was a genuinely good person.

And maybe percussion instruments weren't so stupid after all.

Reina started to leave- but then the music slowed to a pause.

"You can come in, Kousaka-san," she heard Hashimoto-sensei chuckle in the distance. Footsteps padded over, then the door slid open to the band director's weird flashy Hawaiian clothes and green-eyed smile. He held his four marimba mallets in a cluster at his side.

"Still practicing?" he questioned. "You need help with something?"

"Oh... pardon me, Sensei," said Reina apologetically, setting her trumpet case on the floor. "I didn't mean to interrupt. And... you're really good at marimba."

"Eh, I'm alright," said Hashimoto-sensei, rubbing the scruff on his chin. "Haven't played in a while, but that Knuckles-kun left the marimba sitting out today. Speaking of which, I gotta scold him tomorrow for not returning the mallets properly."

"You were using four," said Reina. "I didn't know people did that."

"Oh, the Musser-Stevens grip?" Hashimoto-sensei grinned childishly as he demonstrated, fanning out three mallets in one hand. "I can actually take up to four in each hand. Or six, if I'm drunk and feeling brave."

Reina felt genuinely curious. Over the years in concert band she'd picked up a thorough understanding of every brass instrument out there and a workable knowledge of the woodwind family, but was largely unfamiliar with percussion technique. She'd never heard of multiple mallets before.

"Is that common for percussionists?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, from high school and beyond," said Hashimoto-sensei, toying with the mallets between his fingers. "You probably just never noticed because you're a wind player. I'm actually planning on doing some Stevens grip sectionals for the perc kids at band camp this weekend."

He seemed to notice when Reina's eyes dimmed and lowered at the mention of band camp.

"Kousaka-san? What's wrong?"

Reina decided to cut straight to the point.

"I just had a question about camp."

"Alright. Let's hear it."

The band director's default answer was easy to predict, but she had to try anyway. Reina had promised Kumiko to at least try. So she asked hesitantly, "Is there a way... that I can go, without a signed permission slip?"

Hashimoto-sensei grimaced.

"Your stepfather said no, didn't he."

"I... haven't asked yet," Reina admitted She reached into her music folder and drew out the blank form.

"And I suppose you don't want to."

Reina remained silent as she clutched the form.

"I'm afraid that you can't go without a signed form from a legal guardian, Kousaka-san," said the band director seriously. "That's school policy. The only thing I can tell you is to do your best to -"

"- can you sign it, Sensei?"

Hashimoto-sensei blinked, surprised.

"You're my teacher," said Reina firmly, holding out the form. "You're already legally licensed to watch over students, right? You're allowed to be a guardian at school and for school events. And you already have my emergency contact and health forms from the school. So... could you please give me permission to go?"

Hashimoto-sensei stared at the form in Reina's extended hand for a moment.

"Please," Reina repeated, insistence bordering on desperation.

To her dismay, Hashimoto-sensei closed his eyes.

"Kousaka-san," he sighed, "I am not your legal guardian."

Several seconds of silence.

"I'm sorry," offered Hashimoto-sensei helplessly. "It's school policy- it's the law. My hands are tied."

Then Reina put the form away and picked up her instrument.

"Thank you for your time, Sensei," she said flatly with a polite bow. "Have a good evening."

She was halfway down the hall when Hashimoto-sensei called, "Kousaka-san?"

Reina turned.

"Ask him," said Hashimoto-sensei. "Just do that much. When he says no, I'll do anything I can to help you from there. I promise."

 _Perhaps,_ Reina thought as she continued home, _perhaps it was really worth a shot._

* * *

"What," said Father Taki softly, "is this?"

Reina swallowed, struggling to maintain her composure.

"It's the permission form for band camp this weekend," she said quickly, keeping her plea as concise as to-the-point as possible. Father Taki hated it when people took too long. "I've been working hard lately," she added immediately, "and I've been missing rehearsals, and I've been doing a lot for us. So I was hoping we could move the vacation to next weekend. It's just one week later. I just wanted to-"

 _CRACK._

Father Taki's hand whipped across her face before she could finish. The force of the slap sent Reina reeling, stumbling back in blinding pain.

"Do you consider me stupid?"

The priest set down his half-drained wineglass with a soft _clink_ and slowly rose from his chair, towering above Reina with his full height as his blue eyes gazed coldly down at her from behind his precise glasses.

"You don't think I remember that I've allowed you under contract to attend your band competition next weekend?" he said softly. "Are you trying to buy yourself another two weeks?"

He strode forward. Reina backed away instinctively in fright, covering her stinging cheek with a shaking hand.

"No," she stammered, "that's- that's not what I -"

"The amusement park is only open this weekend," Father Taki interrupted, his voice dangerously gentle as he cornered his stepdaughter against the wall. "I am sick of you cowering like some cripple. You will learn to do what you were born to do, and you will learn this weekend. Not next week. Not two weeks later. We will go this weekend. Is that clear?"

Reina was so paralyzed with terror that she couldn't speak as the priest's shadow loomed over her, invading her space. _He means well. He means well for us._ Her heart threatened to burst from her chest as her mind spun with fearful thoughts. Her wobbling eyes were fixed on the floor.

Annoyed, the priest reached forward and took Reina's chin, lifting her up so his blue gaze bore into her purple eyes.

"I said," Father Taki repeated, "is that clear?"

Reina swallowed.

She had only one idea left, and it was one she hated herself for. What she was about to do was despicable. To throw under the bus the one man who regarded her as a human being, who cared about her despite having great cause not to. She was about to jeopardize her band director's safety, just so she could spend two nights with the most beautiful girl in the world... so she could sleep in the same room as Kumiko, see her pajamas, see her bed hair in the morning, hold her...

It was a risk, Reina knew, but still only a risk. She told herself that she was strong. She could prevent any harm from coming to Hashimoto-sensei.

She turned away from Father Taki.

"Hashimoto-sensei told me to ask you," Reina murmured, voice cracking quietly. _I can protect him._ "He told me he'd do anything to help me go to band camp if you said no." _I can warn him._

A long, tense pause.

Reina waited for the inevitable response.

And then, Father Taki smiled. Gentle as ever, but Reina caught a slight predatory glint in those blue eyes.

"He's the pretty teacher who called me and drove you home last week?" His tone lilted ever so slightly.

"Hai," Reina affirmed.

"The one who apparently healed your head wound?"

"Hai."

"The one who escaped a car accident with an undamaged car?"

"Hai."

Father Taki regarded her for a moment before turning away to face the window, folding his arms against his black priest's cassock as his blue eyes swept over the ragged churchyard below. His dark hair gleamed in the faint daylight as his glasses flashed for a split second with the reflection of the clouded dusk.

"Take your empty form back to your teacher," he ordered. "See what he does."

"Hai," Reina agreed quietly.

She recognized his wordless permission to dismiss herself and left the living room area, retreating to her own bedroom. She clutched the form with trembling fingers, staring at the blank lines on the paper. For a moment she considered snatching up a pen and simple forging Father Taki's signature to avoid the whole ordeal. She knew the scribble well and could duplicate it effortlessly, but it still wouldn't allow her to escape their planned 'vacation.' Hashimoto-sensei might be placated by a signed form at first, but when Reina missed band camp he would still come calling until he captured Father Taki's attention. It seemed impossible for Reina to prevent them from meeting.

Reina left the form on her neatly cluttered desk and fell onto her bed. She lay staring at the ceiling, lightly dabbing at her still-stinging cheek with numb fingers.

Ever since Father Taki had spied Hashimoto-sensei walking Reina and Kumiko through the churchyard in the rain, he'd taken an instant interest in the teacher. Under contract Reina had been forced by Father Taki to tell him everything she knew about Hashimoto-sensei. It seemed the priest had been keeping track of her teacher even more closely than she'd thought.

Meanwhile, the way that Father Taki listed so many of the unusual events surrounding Hashimoto-sensei really brought to light just how strange Reina's band director was- one instance being that her head stopped hurting and her wound disappeared after Hashimoto-sensei patted her head that night. It was the same night that Kumiko defended her, before Hashimoto-sensei forgave Reina as a strange cool breeze fluttered through the air.

Now that Reina thought about it, Hashimoto-sensei was definitely weird. Almost enough to be special, although all of those happenings could have been coincidences.

Maybe Hashimoto-sensei could really find a way to convince Father Taki. Perhaps she'd really get to be with Kumiko for two nights, pretending to be normal. Imagining she wasn't a _cripple._

She pulled out her phone as she crawled under her covers and pulled up the name _'Geh'_ from her Favorites contacts. A name that Father Taki wouldn't recognize if he searched her phone.

 _Are you still at dinner?_ she wrote.

When after half an hour there was no response, Reina rolled over on her bed and curled into herself, hugging her arms near her chest. She felt like one entire cavity, the pain throbbing deeply in her sternum though not sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes. But it was there, the aching, and Reina could only sigh shakily as she lay against the pillow.

Was this what loneliness felt like?


	22. Molto Ritmico 17: Phone Contact

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 17: Phone Contact**

Hashimoto shut his office door behind Kousaka as he ushered in the kid. He pulled up a rolling chair for her and he set his coffee mug on the cluttered desk, taking his own seat. Kousaka timidly followed, lowering herself onto the chair and pressing on her knees with tense palms and locked arms. Her purple eyes looked dark and downcast.

In the silence, Hashimoto glanced at the blank permission slip in his hand. It was the reason he'd pulled Kousaka out of sectionals to speak in private. He sighed and put the piece of paper aside on his desk next to a pile of photocopied sheet music before folding his hands on his lap, leaning forward as he asked:

"Kousaka-san, did your stepfather give a reason for why you can't go?"

The trumpet player replied solemnly, "He said we have a vacation planned this weekend."

Hashimoto did a double-take.

"A- a what? A _vacation?"_

The kid remained silent, and Hashimoto knew something was extremely wrong. People didn't talk about going on vacations in such a gloomy manner. In fact, Kousaka behaved as if she were deeply dreading whatever Taki had planned in place of band camp. This wasn't right.

"Where are you going for- for vacation?" he inquired with a frown.

Kousaka shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"An amusement park," she said quietly.

"Why?"

Kousaka swallowed and looked away.

"Because..." she mumbled, "because I don't like heights."

It took Hashimoto a moment to understand- but when he realized the implications, his gut ignited with burning rage. This was an utter atrocity; it was textbook psychological abuse that was happening to Kousaka. He wondered why Taki was inflicting such torture on this child; maybe as some sort of cruel and unsual punishment, or even out of pure sadism. But now the ball was in Hashimoto's court. It was up to him to try and rescue her from that situation. And the best way to do that was to...

"Kousaka-san," Hashimoto began firmly, "I promised you I would do anything in my power to help you. That means I need to meet in person with your stepfather. Is that alright?"

As he'd expected, Kousaka swallowed and said nothing.

"Would it help if you called your stepfather first," Hashimoto offered, "to explain things before I speak to him on the phone?"

When the girl's expression still seemed hesitant, he added gently, "If you need to, you could say that I'm forcing you to call. Tell him I'm being mean. You won't get any backlash if you blame it on me."

A pause.

Eventually, after a minute of consideration, Kousaka nodded.

Hashimoto let her out of his office to make the call in private.

In the meantime, the band director sat back down and opened his file cabinet. He extracted Kousaka's case file, sifted through the papers until he found the emergency contact form with Taki Noboru's phone number, and placed it beside the office phone. He thought long and hard about exactly what to say to Taki as he waited for Kousaka to finish.

At first he considered simply holding the discussion over the phone, but decided that it would seem too casual. He needed to force Taki to show up in person. Abusive parents were usually detached from their child's extracurricular life and might not view a club adviser's request as a serious issue, so Hashimoto had to make sure Taki wouldn't brush him off as an annoying gnat. The best way to do that was face-to-face where he could use the full range of his persuasive abilities to create better results. But what to say now on the phone, to ensure the meeting would happen at all? Perhaps the best strategy was just to be curt and assertive, to get the appointment scheduled as quickly as possible so the real conversation could happen later. That sounded alright. That might work.

When Kousaka finally returned, she asked, "Sensei, may I please see your cell phone?"

Hashimoto blinked at the sudden bewildering request.

"Wait," he said, dazed. "What?"

"May I please see your cell phone?"

Hashimoto had trouble believing his own ears. But then he had the notion that Kousaka could be asking because she thought he might call Taki with his personal cell. So after a moment's pause, he clarified, "I'm using the office phone to call."

"I... really just need to see your cell phone," said Kousaka nervously, turning away as her face flushed scarlet- just as red as when she'd claimed that her wounds were all from accidents. "Please."

Frowning in confusion but deciding to trust that his student just wanted to _look,_ for some inexplicable reason, Hashimoto-sensei slowly pulled his iPhone from his pocket and offered it to Kousaka. He quirked an eyebrow when all the girl did was brush the phone with her fingertips before lowering her hand and nodding.

Then she informed him, "He says you can call, Sensei," -as if she hadn't just strangely caressed his personal mobile phone.

"Uh," said Hashimoto, putting away the iPhone and pretending this bizarre exchange didn't just happen, "thank you, Kousaka-san. You can head back to sectionals. I'll let you know the plan after rehearsal ends."

After Kousaka bowed politely and left the office, Hashimoto returned his attention to the matter at hand. He glanced at Taki Noboru's name and number printed in the grid on the emergency contact form.

He took a deep breath.

Then, he picked up the office phone and began to dial.

* * *

Taki Noboru picked up after a short ring.

 _"Masahiro?"_

Hashimoto froze.

He had to admit, he was caught off-guard.

The band director shut his eyes for one second, re-opened them, and answered tightly, "Good afternoon. This is Hashimoto-sensei, Kousaka-san's concert band adviser -"

 _"Call her Reina, please,"_ Taki corrected. His silvery voice was every bit as lovely and gentle as Hashimoto recalled from their previous interaction. _"There's no need to continue. Tell me when you can meet."_

No greetings. No pleasantries. No honorifics. The sheer rudeness and cold efficiency of Taki's delivery was honestly shocking for a man with such a pleasantly warm voice; not to mention Taki somehow knew his given name and had the effortless audacity to address him that way. Hashimoto sat back in his chair in disbelief. He found himself incredibly disturbed by the dissonance of gentle cruelty. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Struggling to continue as he'd intended, Hashimoto said, "Could we chat today after rehearsal? If you want, before you pick up Kousaka-san we could-"

 _"That's not possible, unfortunately,"_ Taki cut in. _"If you would please choose a time tomorrow."_

"Tomorrow after rehearsal is fine too," Hashimoto immediately said. Since it was now obvious that Taki didn't require persuasion to meet, he just wanted this creepy-as-hell phone call to be over and done. "My office number is -"

 _"Name a specific time, please."_

Hashimoto narrowed his eyes.

"Six PM," he offered. "My office is room twelve on the third floor of -"

 _"We'll meet at L'iniziò Dellafine. I've already made the reservation. Eighteen o'clock."_

Hashimoto blinked.

"What?" he said, dumbfounded.

 _"L'iniziò Dellafine,"_ Taki repeated. _"Central Uji. It shouldn't be a long drive for you."_

Not bothering to question exactly how Taki had made a reservation at a foreign-sounding restaurant in the breadth of less than two seconds, Hashimoto immediately snapped, "No. I can't do that." His patience was running thin for this cold-blooded priest who was about to force his stepdaughter into an amusement park knowing she had a fear of heights. "Can't you just find a time to come in to your stepdaughter's school?" said Hashimoto, barely hiding his exasperation. "I'm here this week almost every afternoon and evening."

 _"My mistake,"_ Taki spoke silkily, after a theatrical little sigh. _"I thought you were interested in negotiating the terms of Reina's participation this weekend. Am I wrong?"_

"No- I do want to talk about Kousaka-san, but -"

 _"Then I'll see you at L'iniziò Dellafine."_

Hashimoto fumed mentally as he clutched the receiver in one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. This was disgusting. Taki was literally holding hostage the wellbeing of his own stepdaughter. But if this deranged priest wanted to play games like this, then so be it. Hashimoto would play along if it meant that Kousaka could go to band camp like a normal freshman with Oumae and the rest of her classmates- and avoid her fate at the amusement park this weekend. And in any case, there were easily other means of ensuring the professionalism and safety of this meeting, even with the unexpected off-campus location.

"Okay," Hashimoto conceded grudgingly. "Fine. We'll talk tomorrow."

 _"We will,"_ Taki agreed. _"You've been very interesting to me lately, Masahiro. I look forward to seeing you."_

And then he hung up.

Hashimoto just sat there dazedly for a bit. The phone beeped quietly in his unmoving hand, until it emitted a loud post-call dial tone and he was forced to put it down to make it shut up. He collapsed back in the rolling chair, took off his glasses, and pressed his hands against his stubbled face.

Why were so many weird things happening to him? Why did Kousaka ask to touch his phone? Why was Taki intent on exploiting Kousaka's fear of heights? How did Taki know his given name? Why did Taki find him interesting?

Hashimoto slouched there for another minute before his green eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was a quarter to four PM. He had about forty-five minutes before he needed to reconvene his students from sectionals into full ensemble rehearsal.

That was enough time for him to do what he needed to do.

* * *

Three knocks later, the principal of Kitauji High School answered from within his office, "Please enter!"

Hashimoto stepped in. He bowed respectfully to his superior and closed the door behind him.

"Ah, good afternoon, Hashimoto-kun," said the elderly principal with a fond smile as he looked up from his paperwork. "How can I be of use? More permission slips for your talented students? An extra bus for this weekend? Anything to help Kitauji reach nationals again, you have my support."

"Thank you, _kouchou-sensei,"_ said Hashimoto as he inclined his head, "but it's a different kind of help I need today."

"Oh?" the principal said, putting down his pen and folding his hands. "What's the matter?"

Hashimoto grimaced as he moved forward, placing his hands on the principal's desk.

He let out a deep breath, and explained:

"I've just been threatened into a dinner date at an occidental restaurant with a violent priest."

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Did anyone look up "L'iniziò Dellafine" on Google Translate? ;) ;) ;)_


	23. Molto Ritmico 18: Appalachian Overture

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 18: Appalachian Overture**

Kumiko was so exhausted by the last ten minutes of rehearsal that when Hashimoto-sensei cut off the band to deliver criticism, she sighed audibly in relief. It earned her a look from Asuka-senpai, but at this point Kumiko didn't care. She was too tired. The ending of _Dance Movements Molto Ritmico_ was horribly difficult for both woodwinds and brass, and her playing endurance had been pushed to its limit. Her lips were numb with exhaustion and felt like they would fall off her face at any second. _If Hashimoto-sensei makes the brass play,_ she thought, _I'll probably have to take it down an octave. This is just too awful._

Luckily, Hashimoto-sensei instead turned his eye to the woodwinds.

"Clarinets," he said, somehow sounding both stern and amused, "we've got only two weeks left and it's still a mess up there at sixty-three. Now I know that's one of the most difficult clarinet parts ever written, so no hard feelings. But it needs to be fixed by this Friday. Alright?"

A chorus of _"Hai!"_ from the clarinets, then Hashimoto-sensei added, "I can provide anything you need. Metronomes, access to extra rooms, and cookies. It just needs to be fixed, so please make that a priority."

"Um, Sensei?"

Torizuka Hirone, the principal clarinet, had her hand raised.

"We were thinking," she said, "about splitting the part and trading off the ostinato. Like... it's really too hard by ourselves, because of the fingerings. Are we allowed to do that in competition?"

Hashimoto-sensei pursed his lips as he scratched his stubbled chin.

"It's definitely not against the rules," he explained. "But that's not what I'm concerned about if you trade off."

After a moment's pause, he asked pointedly, "Woodwinds, what is your role here?"

"Motor device?" someone answered immediately.

"That's correct," confirmed Hashimoto-sensei. "So, if you're the motor device, what should you focus on to drive the piece forward?"

"Maintaining accurate tempo," said Torizuka-senpai knowledgably.

"You got it," said Hashimoto-sensei with a smile. Then he glanced at the clock. "Looks like we only have a couple minutes left, so we might as well build your knowledge as musicians. There's no point in sounding all fancy if your brain doesn't know what you're doing."

 _That sounds like something Reina would say,_ thought Kumiko. She glanced toward the trumpet section to see if Reina would jump forward to answer a question in rehearsal, as eagerly and fearlessly like she used to in middle school. But her best friend seemed oddly tuned out of the present exchange. Her normally intense violet eyes were unfocused, looking toward the window.

Kumiko wondered if Reina had managed to get her permission slip signed or not.

"Now," Hashimoto-sensei continued as he sat on his stool on the podium, "this is a common occurrence in finales of concert band pieces, where the high woodwinds become the motor device while brass play fanfares. Can anyone name me another piece where this happens?"

A collective pause hung over the room as the students thought of an example.

Kumiko had an answer she wanted to try. Through Reina's advice and tutelage she'd gotten good at seeing connections and similarities between band pieces, but given the band's current opinion of her (since she was associated with the infamous Kousaka-san), she didn't really want to participate. Still, she watched on the edge of her seat.

Then Kaori-senpai ventured forth with, "Ending of _Crescent Moon Dance?"_

"That's a very close one," nodded Hashimoto-sensei, but he didn't look quite satisfied. "High woodwinds flurry over brass, but they're not necessarily the motor device. Anyone else?"

"Ending of Holst's second suite," offered Yoriko-senpai from the flute section. "The Dargason with Greensleeves."

"Mm, that's more of an overlay of two melodies." The band director raised his eyebrows. "Any other answers?"

Kumiko was finally unable to resist. She blurted out, "APPALACHIAN OVERTURE!"

Hashimoto-sensei's forest-green eyes beamed at her.

"Excellent!" he praised, tapping his baton on his music stand. "Good answer, Oumae-san. And do you know why your answer is closer than the other suggestions?"

"B-because..." said Kumiko, swallowing as she felt fifty-six pairs of eyes on her, "the w-woodwinds are playing a... ostinato part?"

"Exactly!" said Hashimoto. "If you've played Appalachian Overture before, consider what you did during that section to reflect the composer's wishes."

Kumiko returned her teacher's smile before glancing in Reina's direction, and saw she'd caught her best friend's attention. Her beautiful purple eyes sparkled as she wore a slight, proud smile. Kumiko recalled about how Reina used to look down on her so coldly in middle school, how she used to visit Kumiko every single day afterschool to lecture her about not playing music so blindly. Thanks to Reina she had learned how to truly practice- not just the euphonium, but also her powers of light, heat, and invisibility. If it were not for Reina, she would still be mucking around at everything.

Kumiko was so elated by the approving look on Reina's face that she barely heard Hashimoto-sensei continue, "Now, I know you'd all rather be playing your instruments right now. But as we get closer to the competition, I want all of us to become more aware of how we fit in with the rest of the band, and make decisions accordingly."

The band chorused their agreement in unison: "Hai!"

Hashimoto-sensei then turned back to the clarinets.

"Clarinets," he said, "go ahead and trade-off, but don't let the split compromise your primary responsibility as the motor device. On the actual performance you need to be in time with the snare, so be sure to practice with a metronome."

After the clarinet section affirmed his command, Hashimoto-sensei added, "As usual, anyone who answered a question in rehearsal today is welcome to drop by my office for cookies. Good work today! Dismissed."

As the band started to bustle with movement and conversation, everyone hurrying to pack up their instruments and equipment, Asuka-senpai suddenly tapped Kumiko's shouder.

Kumiko flinched and turned, cringing as she whispered, "Hai?"

She was fully expecting a stern rebuke or something of the sort. But Asuka only said, "That was good."

"Huurgh- what?"

Asuka's slate-blue eyes turned back to her music. She was smiling ever-so-slightly.

"That was a good answer, Kumiko-chan."

* * *

After Kumiko had packed up her euphonium, put her chair and stand away, and got her backpack in order, she went immediately to find Reina and ask whether she'd gotten her permission slip signed at all. It was only the day after Hashimoto-sensei had handed out forms but already there were camp rooms filling up fast and she wanted to sign them up together as soon as possible.

However, Hashimoto-sensei had reached the trumpet player first by the time she spotted Reina at the front of the band room. Kumiko saw their teacher beckoning her to follow him. She hurried along until she caught up, panting.

"Reina," she gasped. "Hashimoto-sensei. Can I come too?"

"Absolutely," said Hashimoto-sensei, continuing out of the band room into the hallway leading to his office. "You won yourself a cookie, by the way."

The three of them were quickly joined by Yoriko-senpai, who tailed them to the office and barraged Hashimoto-sensei with questions on the difference between Holst's and Sparke's endings. Kumiko waited patiently with Reina while Hashimoto-sensei handed Yoriko a cookie from his desk drawer and meticulously explained why her answer was good, but not perfect.

When Yoriko was done, Hashimoto-sensei shut the door, leaving him alone with Kumiko and Reina.

"Go ahead," offered the band director, motioning to the rolling chairs by his desk. Reina did and Kumiko followed suit, while Hashimoto-sensei opened his sweets tin and took out a bass-clef shaped cookie with a napkin. He handed it to Kumiko.

"Well-earned, punk," he said. "Glad you're starting to speak up in rehearsal."

Kumiko accepted the cookie politely with a small word of thanks, wrapping it in the paper napkin to eat later. She didn't have much of an appetite right now. Not with Reina's brooding expression. Kumiko swallowed, knowing that she was about to sit in on another serious conversation. Meanwhile, Hashimoto-sensei put away the tin and sat down at his desk across from his students. He folded his hands and gave Reina a grim look.

"Kousaka-san," he began, "your stepfather and I are going to meet at six PM today. That's only forty-five minutes from now."

Kumiko worriedly watched Reina. The trumpet player's purple eyes were fixed on the floor.

"I want to make this as successful as possible," said Hashimoto-sensei carefully, "so I need to know what I should or shouldn't say. Do you have anything you want me to know?"

Reina twisted the hem of her skirt in her pale fingers. With a pang, Kumiko thought it was terrifying how scared Reina now appeared. She looked nothing like her confident, passionate, bold middle school self.

"Sensei," Reina murmured, "If I were you... I wouldn't meet with him at all."

Kumiko saw Hashimoto-sensei tense slightly.

"What makes you say that?"

Reina opened her mouth- then hesitated.

"I don't want to go to band camp anymore," she mumbled, turning away as her cheeks slowly colored. "I don't care if you kick me out of the band."

 _Yeah, right,_ thought Kumiko. She'd known Reina long enough to know that this was the same blush the girl wore whenever she tried to explain away her mysterious wounds as accidents. Reina was really an awful liar.

Hashimoto-sensei leaned forward, his forest-green eyes studying Reina from behind his glasses.

"You're really good at a lot of things, kid," he mused, "but lying isn't one of them-"

"Don't tell him I said you shouldn't go," Reina suddenly interrupted. "I don't want-"

"- it's alright. Don't worry. Everything said in this room stays in this room."

With that, Hashimoto-sensei shot a meaningful look at Kumiko, who nodded hurriedly.

Reina stole a glance at the clock on the wall.

"I can't say anything more," she said quietly. "But, just... it would be a really bad idea to go."

But Hashimoto-sensei didn't appear to care about Kousaka-san's warnings, which Kumiko was finding more and more ominous. Even though it was just a parent-teacher meeting about a permission slip, Kumiko had the nasty feeling that there was something crucial at stake here, and that Hashimoto-sensei wasn't taking this seriously enough. She had the urge to chime in and warn Hashimoto-sensei, but a whiny part of her longed for Reina's stepfather to sign his daughter's permission slip so Reina could sleep in the same futon as Kumiko. Besides, maybe this wasn't as dramatic as she was imagining it to be. It was probably really just a parent-teacher meeting. She would likely just end up coming off as losing interest in Reina or something weird like that.

Kumiko was still wrestling with her indecision to participate in the conversation when Hashimoto-sensei went ahead and asked, "Kousaka-san. Please tell me honestly. Do you personally want to go to band camp?"

Reina seemed to struggle for a moment before turning, amethyst eyes looking directly at Kumiko.

"I just want to play music," she said, looking away. "That's all I've ever wanted to do."

Hashimoto-sensei quirked an eyebrow. Then a small smile spread on his lips as he said, "You want to go with Oumae-san, don't you?"

When both girls blushed and averted each other's eyes in awkward directions, the band director mused, "Can't say I'm surprised."

He glanced at the clock too, and stretched as he rose from his chair. "I have to get moving," he muttered, packing his scores and baton into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Sounds like your stepfather wouldn't like it if I were late. Can we walk and talk?"

Reina nodded, so Kumiko stood up with her. The girls picked up their instruments and schoolbags and followed Hashimoto-sensei out the office. He held the door for them before shutting off the lights.

Kumiko glanced at the clock before leaving. It was only five twenty PM; did Hashimoto-sensei really need forty minutes to get to the main office? Why was he in such a rush to arrive so early? That was the only place she could imagine a parent-teacher meeting occuring, having ruled out Hashimoto-sensei's own office.

Kumiko shifted the weight of her euphonium bag on her shoulders, and wondered where exactly they were going.

* * *

"Are you really going to meet him?" Reina asked, as the three of them started down the hallway toward the stairwell.

"I'll do anything in my power to help you go to camp this weekend," said Hashimoto-sensei firmly. "That includes meeting with him."

Reina sighed, a strangely dejected sound from the usually intense girl.

"I wish it were that simple," she said.

Hashimoto frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Reina didn't answer. Instead, she only restated, "Sensei, please think about not showing up to the meeting."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm going no matter what."

Hashimoto-sensei moved steadily ahead while his students dragged behind him. Reina seemed to struggle with her own hesitation as they started down the stairs. They descended the stairs in silence. By the time they reached the bottom, Kumiko was panting from exhaustion with the weight of her euphonium crushing down on her back. Consoled by the fact that they were almost at the main office, she pushed forward.

But Hashimoto-sensei walked straight past the main office. He continued on to the shoe locker area, fishing his keys out and unlocking his own box to change out of school slippers. Exchanging a glance with Reina, Kumiko went to her own shoe locker and changed into her outdoor loafers.

When the three of them regrouped and exited through the front doors, Reina finally spoke up again.

"In you're really going to meet, just remember one thing."

"What?" said Hashimoto-sensei, glancing around his shoulder as they started across the courtyard.

"Don't make any deals with him."

That was apparenty enough to give Hashimoto-sensei pause, enough that he halted his steps to regard Reina more seriously than before. He adjusted his glasses, seeming slightly perturbed. Here was Reina again talking about deals, just like she'd mentioned to Kumiko over and over again in their conversations about Taki Noboru. Kumiko wondered what it was about making a deal with Reina's stepfather that was so terrible. Couldn't Reina just lie her way out of a deal? Or was she too terrible at lying? Was Reina assuming that Taki Noboru could also see through Hashimoto-sensei if he lied and broke a deal?

But apparently it was a serious enough warning that Hashimoto-sensei continued to ask for clarification.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"If he even brings up the word 'deal,' say _no,"_ Reina told him. "Or 'promise.' Or 'contract.' Or 'in exchange.' You have to say no to all of it."

Hashimoto-sensei frowned deeply.

"Why?"

"Because he..." Reina faltered, "I can't tell you more than that. I'm sorry. Just... remember that. Please?"

Hashimoto-sensei studied her expression before hesitantly nodding.

"I'll keep it in mind," he accepted.

They arrived at the faculty parking lot minutes later. Hashimoto-sensei's car was parked in the opposite direction from the street toward the train station. So Kumiko and Reina said their polite goodbyes, bowing and thanking the band director for his time and teaching. They were about to leave to walk to the station together when Hashimoto-sensei called, "Kousaka-san!"

Kumiko and Reina turned around, pausing.

"You're my student," Hashimoto-sensei said firmly. "I won't give up on you. Ever. Alright?"

Reina swallowed. "Thank you, Hashimoto-sensei-"

"- and remember you're never alone in what you're facing," the band director continued. "You have me. And more importantly," he nodded at Kumiko, "you have Oumae-san. Don't forget that."

Reina smiled at Kumiko.

"I won't."

* * *

Reina must have been exhausted, because within minutes she was sound asleep on Kumiko's shoulder. Her head was tucked against Kumiko's neck, where she could feel Reina's pulse against her skin. She didn't dare to move, knowing Reina trusted her to stay still, and to wake her up at her stop.

When Kumiko did, Reina pulled her into an sudden, wordless hug. The euphonium player squeaked at the unexpectedness of it, but relaxed and hugged Reina back. Neither of them were bothered that the rest of the surly passengers, fatigued and grumpy on their rush-hour ride, were glaring at them for getting in the way and behaving so emotionally in public. Kumiko just didn't care. Nothing else mattered right now.

But eventually, she pushed the trumpet player away, right as the voice on the intercom announced _"Please step back, the doors are closing."_

"It's time to go," she reminded Reina gently. "Don't miss your stop."

Reina barely made it off the train onto the other side before the doors closed. Kumiko pressed herself to the glass to watch Reina leave; both as a show of sentiment and because she simply wanted to. But as the train started the depart the platform, she saw the girl drop her schoolbag and trumpet case on the floor. She fell back to lean against a pillar.

Then to Kumiko's horror, Reina buried her face in her hands. She started to cry.

Kumiko froze for a moment before scrambling to the door and pounding on the glass.

"Wait," she sputtered, "wait! Stop..."

But the train had no intention of stopping, and the car full of passengers had no sympathy to spare for the loud schoolgirl with the messy hair. Kumiko could only watch Reina sobbing as the train sped away.

When the train was swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, Kumiko numbly sank back on her seat. Her hand fell to her side and landed on the warm patch of seat beside her where Reina had just been resting, sleeping peacefully on Kumiko's shoulder.

Then Kumiko's hand clenched into a fist when she thought of Reina's stepfather. Taki Noboru. Taki-fatherfucking-Noboru.

She was going to Reina's home. Safe or not.

Tonight.


	24. Molto Ritmico 19: L'iniziò Dellafine

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 19: L'iniziò Dellafine**

 _L'iniziò Dellafine_ turned out to be an elegant, modern-looking Mediterranean restaurant, the type of snooty haute-cuisine establishment Hashimoto would ordinarily never set foot in. Its dress code seemed not so stringent as to prevent laymen from entering, but severe enough that his pink t-shirt and plastic necklace drew odd looks from the patrons near the entrance. The band director ignored them as best as he could; it wasn't his fault he'd shown up in his usual classroom outfit to this unexpected dinner.

Still, it was difficult not to feel a bit humiliated in front of such company. Hashimoto was pretty sure that this was intentional on Taki Noboru's part.

The wait staff had the good grace not to take notice of Hashimoto's bizarre appearance, at least without showing it. They smiled and welcomed him like any other customer.

"Good evening, sir. Would you be Hashimoto Masahiro-san?"

Hashimoto nodded. He was led through the restaurant, presumably to where Taki was sitting. As they walked past candlelit tables amidst the hum of quiet conversation and clinking silverware, the band director glanced at the entrace behind him and then scoured the room for the balding head of his vice principal. The adminstrator had agreed to accompany him to this meeting to ensure its safety and professionalism, but he should have arrived fifteen minutes ago to greet Taki before Hashimoto. Yet there was no sign of the vice principal.

Meanwhile, Hashimoto wondered what Taki looked like; a large and lumbering brute, maybe. Priests of all religions were usually self-absorbed old men obsessed with discipline and institution. If Taki was traditional and conservative like stereotypical priests, then he probably fit in nicely here with such a stifling atmosphere of social correctness.

But when they reached their table...

On the other end sat a slender young man with dark hair and half-rimmed glasses, dressed entirely in black except for a clerical collar peeking out in a white square at his throat. Around his neck hung a silver crucifix on a long, thin chain. He seemed to be just a year or two older than Hashimoto himself.

 _No way,_ thought Hashimoto, blinking in shock. _No fucking way._

Taki Noboru politely rose from the table, his bespoke priest's cassock swishing gracefully like a queen's dress from cinched waist to black shoes. At standing height he loomed three inches taller than Hashimoto, who was trying to ignore how the black fabric hugged the priest's slender upper body in all the right spots. Likely it would be difficult to imagine such a beautiful man treating Reina so cruelly without knowing her side of the story...

... And yes, Hashimoto was forced to admit it: Taki was terribly, stunningly attractive.

"Your table, sir," said the waitress, pulling out his chair for him. "Your server will be with you in just a moment. Please enjoy your evening."

Taki acknowledged Hashimoto with a small nod. Then he fixed the waitress with a blue-eyed smile, innocent and charming.

"Thank you," he spoke gently, in that familiar silvery voice. "I think we're all set."

The waitress looked like she was about to melt. She bowed, blushing, and hurried away.

Hashimoto was honestly caught off-guard by Taki's physical appearance. What he had anticipated was a myriad of other possibilities, each likelihood darker than the next as he'd discussed them with the vice principal in the scant time before the meeting. But out of everything, Hashimoto hadn't foreseen his opponent's jaw-dropping looks. That alone threw a serious curveball that he was unprepared to handle. Other than his own sexual orientation _(which was admittedly causing another unwanted problem),_ the bigger issue was that Taki possessed a marked advantage in an unfair world which associated surface beauty with good character. Hashimoto realized that he likely faced an extra challenge on his hands when the vice principal arrived: he might have to convince his superior that Taki was not as nice as he appeared.

Meanwhile, Taki gave a courteous little bow as Hashimoto moved to the table. His black cassock swayed softly with his elegant movements.

"It's a pleasure, Masahiro," he said. _"Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."_

Hashimoto did not return the token gesture. He knew what lay under that polite guise, and it deserved no respect.

"I don't know you're foreign or something, but I'd prefer it if you addressed me as your stepdaughter's teacher," he said stiffly. "Because that's what I am."

He saw a hint of a smile creeping on Taki's lips.

"If you wish, _Hashimoto-sensei,"_ he corrected, lilting tauntingly. "Shall we?"

Hashimoto glared at him as they both took their seats at the table. When they had settled down, he decided to get straight to business.

"My vice principal should've been here fifteen minutes ago," he said. "Maybe you saw him before I arrived?"

"I can't say I have," said Taki. "But central Uji can be confusing. Your supervisor might be lost."

"I highly doubt that."

"Then perhaps try calling him."

Taki was being unexpectedly helpful, which was unsettling, but Hashimoto wasn't going to complain. He pulled out his phone and swiped open the screen.

"Do you mind?" he asked, simply out of common courtesy. Should Taki deny his request, he would just go ahead and call anyway.

But the priest only nodded and offered, "Take your time."

Hashimoto dialed the vice principal's number, exhaling through his nose in frustration. No one picked up. He dialed again. No response.

On his third call, Taki suddenly mused, "It seems your supervisor's phone is unfortunately out of battery. Sorry about this bad luck."

At Taki's oddly specific description of the situation, Hashimoto hung up with a small _beep._ He looked up, studying the priest suspiciously. Reina's warnings were really beginning to sink in.

"You can send him an email with the correct address," Taki suggested innocently.

"You know," said Hashimoto distrustfully, "I remember emailing him the right address in the first place."

Taki smirked.

"Did you really?"

Hashimoto frowned and opened his inbox. He checked his 'Sent' folder and found the message delivered to the vice principal. And apparently Taki was right; he did send a different address. Yet he clearly recalled copying and pasting the right one, and he wasn't the forgetful type. Was it all just a coincidence, or had Taki really gone this far just to sabotage Hashimoto's plans? Just to isolate him for a few minutes? But somehow the idea of Taki hunched behind a computer hacking into Hashimoto's email seemed laughably implausible. Maybe it was really just bad luck.

"You should remedy the situation," said Taki in the meantime, self-satisfied like a cat that'd just caught a bird. "But he might be very late."

Hashimoto narrowed his eyes at the priest before returning to his phone screen to tap the 'Compose' button.

He had just finished with typing out the email out on his phone when he heard:

"Your orders, gentlemen."

The band director looked up from his screen to see a waiter arriving at their table, carrying a steaming silver platter. He blinked in confusion, and beheld two plates of exquisitely-cooked veal fillets drizzled with some kind of savory Mediterranean sauce prepared with truffled potatoes and roasted vegetables. Fancy foreign food. It all looked extremely expensive and unappetizing to Hashimoto, who now just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

"I didn't order anything," he said gruffly.

Taki only smiled.

"Dinner's on me."

The two ridiculous plates of veal were served by their waiter, who then lit an uncomfortably romantic-looking candle in the center of the table as he laid down silver cutlery for the two men. Hashimoto watched the whole ordeal with angry disbelief.

"This is _incredibly_ inappropriate," he hissed sharply, leaning forward over the warm candlelight. _"This is a parent-teacher meeting."_

"This can be whatever you want it it to be," replied Taki suggestively, acting far too un-priest-like for comfort.

Hashimoto felt his face flush with heated embarrassment. He threw Taki a disgusted look; then he shoved the plate away and folded his arms like a petulant child. Meanwhile their waiter, who at last noticed the palpable tension between his two patrons, bowed quickly and scampered away with a worried glance over the shoulder.

"I'm not here for _this,"_ Hashimoto snapped, avoiding Taki's ocean-blue eyes and instead glaring at the tablecloth. "How about you tell me why you're terrorizing your stepdaughter with her fear of heights?"

Taki huffed quietly.

"She told you?"

"A-after I pressured her," added Hashimoto quickly, who suddenly began worrying about possible repercussions for Kousaka-san. He started fidgeting with his imitation-leather wristwatch. "Why are you doing this to her?"

Taki paused, seeming to choose his words with care.

"When a child is afraid of water, you cannot just kick her in a lake and force her to swim," he said cryptically. "That could kill her; she could drown. Instead you have to ease her into the water. Even if she's afraid, she has to learn for her own good. It's a necessary skill for-"

"How is it 'necessary' to get over heights?" interrupted Hashimoto, exasperated. "Is she supposed to join the Air Force or something?"

"That," said Taki, blue eyes staring icily, "is none of your business, _Hashimoto-sensei."_

Hashimoto grit his teeth and was about to retort in anger before he remembered why he was here in the first place. So instead, he sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his brown hair. He had to keep this evening's objective in focus instead of trying to tackle everything at once, because Kousaka-san's abuse situation was far from simple. It was impossible to just demand Taki to cease his actions and expect results after a single night of negotiations. It had to be solved one step at a time, the first being to ensure that Kousaka-san could participate in this weekend's activities with her bandmates and friends (with Oumae-san). That was what he had to do today.

"Fine." Hashimoto brought the discussion back to the original point of this meeting. "But do you really have to go on the same weekend as band camp? Why not just another day?"

"Most seasonal parks haven't opened yet," explained Taki, "except briefly now, for the Agata Festival. Reina and I can either go this weekend or the next. Seeing as I've agreed to let her attend prefecturals next weekend with you, that leaves only this weekend."

Hashimoto suddenly had an idea.

"You _agreed_ to let Kousaka-san attend prefecturals?"

"I believe that's what I said."

"So it was a _deal?"_

Taki arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair as he replied, "Yes."

 _I've got you now!_ Hashimoto grinned mentally, congratulating himself as he shuffled forward with both elbows on the table. This was it! He had discovered what could be a hilariously simple way out of this, a loophole that could force Taki to concede. _You'll have to play by your own rules now, you creepy priest._

"What if I told you," the band director put forth, "that Kousaka-san's participation at band camp is a prerequisite for prefecturals?"

"So?"

 _He's not getting it,_ thought Hashimoto, waiting with suppressed glee for Taki to recognize defeat. He crowed, "If you don't let her attend band camp, I can't let her go to prefecturals."

"And?"

"So you know," Hashimoto eagerly pushed, "you won't be upholding your end of the deal if you don't sign her permission slip, because then she can't play at-"

"- then I'll buy her a ticket," said Taki calmly, folding his hands in his black-clothed lap, "and drive her to the venue. That way she can watch her friends without participating. She asked to, and I quote, _'attend the full duration of the Kyoto All-Prefectural Concert Band Competition on June 13th.'_ Nothing was mentioned about performing onstage. Those were the terms she decided for herself."

Hashimoto blinked, taken aback.

This was... shockingly heartless.

Taki merely smiled.

"You shouldn't play games you don't understand, Masahiro."

Palms curling into fists under the table, Hashimoto grit his teeth; he wanted to snatch that plate of sauce-covered veal and splatter it on Taki's pretty face. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his language in check.

"Are you a priest or a lawyer?" he spat. "Don't you have any compassion? Your stepdaughter wants this so badly, and she's a fantastic student and musician. Can't you respect her wishes just this once?"

"I am already excessively lenient," said Taki, whose silvery voice had gained a venomous edge. "My intentions from the start were to let Reina perform. I never seriously considered sticking to her self-imposed technicalities. Or would you rather I did?"

Hashimoto opened his mouth- then shut it when it dawned that Taki was literally threatening him by dangling Kousaka's attendance over the edge, which was cruel and revolting. But the band director also realized that his hot-headed impulsiveness could jeopardize his student's very participation at prefecturals, and that was on top of failing to negotiate permission for her to be at band camp. This really wasn't going well.

Taki seemed to revel in Hashimoto's helpless silence.

"If _you_ want to play so badly with the grown-ups," he premised, "then I have a proposition. You want my stepdaughter this weekend for three days? In return, I want three of your evenings."

"W- what?"

"Agree to eat dinner with me for three nights this month," Taki clarified. "Then she can go to your camp. It's that simple."

Hashimoto stilled.

Kousaka's words echoed in his head:

 _If he even brings up the word 'deal,' say no. Or 'promise.' Or 'contract.' Or 'in exchange.' You have to say no to all of it._

Taki leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

"Do we have a deal, Masahiro?"

Hashimoto felt dangerously tempted to accept. He couldn't detect any loopholes in Taki's offer to literally sell the wellbeing if his stepdaughter, despite Kousaka's emphatic warnings to avoid making deals. It seemed but a small price to pay for her participation. Although it was disgusting how it objectified the girl as some kind of commodity, it really sounded like a solid prevention against Taki's cruel plan to expose her fear of heights. And besides, Hashimoto could just show up to those appointments, wolf down his food without a second glance at Taki, and scram. Then his end of the deal would be fulfilled.

Still, he had been quite unnerved today by Kousaka's wide purple eyes, and the look of knowing fear in Oumae's amber stare. _"Don't make any deals with him."_ Kousaka had spent her precious time and effort to warn him of this, repeatedly. In a way it would be a betrayal of her faith in him as a teacher to dismiss her words so casually. The band director found himself faced with the dilemma of listening to his own judgment or blindly trusting the pleas of his student.

Eventually, after a long pause, Hashimoto made up his mind:

"No."

Taki blinked. His sea-blue eyes widened with curiosity.

"I thought you were the selfless type of teacher," he said. "Perhaps I was wrong."

Hashimoto knew Taki was now just sticking barbs in him for refusing the deal, and therefore must have strongly desired for the band director to play along. All of it meant that Kousaka's warnings had been worth heeding. Still, he countered with, "I couldn't say yes if I wanted to. Your demands are unprofessional and inappropriate."

Taki shrugged. "A better man would have agreed," he mused, nonchalantly turning his attention to his plate of veal.

Hashimoto looked on with distaste while Taki quietly murmured a prayer of grace. Then the priest lightly made a cross-shaped motion with his right hand before cutting into the veal.

As Taki started eating, Hashimoto scoffed, "What kind of a weird request was that anyway? Why would you... why would you want dinner with me?"

Taki blinked and adjusted his glasses. His sapphire-blue eyes looked Hashimoto up and down.

"You've been extremely interesting lately," he imparted slowly. "You might not even realize it yourself, unless I'm wrong, and a confrontation is in order. But for now, all I want is to ask a question or two."

"Like what?" said Hashimoto, ignoring the strange comment about a 'confrontation.'

Taki paused at a forkful of roasted potatoes with a smile.

"I heard you were in a car accident a few days ago," he said, lowering his fork. "My condolences. Weren't you hit on your forehead?"

"Yeah," said Hashimoto, failing to see how this was relevant. "So what?"

"So where's your scar?"

Hashimoto froze.

 _How does this guy even know about that?!_ thought the band director. He recalled sitting in his office that night after rehearsal, feeling beneath his forehead bandage and rubbing over completely-healed skin. And then he'd found splitting pain on the back of his head, the blood seeping through his brown hair. It had been an extremely strange evening, but it was even weirder that Taki had taken the effort to extract this information from Kousaka and corner Hashimoto here to interrogate him about it.

Unsure of how to respond, Hashimoto stammered, "I... I was just confused. The scar's actually.. it's on the back of my head-"

"- and yet on your forehead was a bandage when you dropped off my stepdaughter last week," said Taki silkily. "Nevermind that. But do you really have a scar on the back of your head?"

"I- _what?!"_ sputtered Hashimoto. "What does this have to -"

"Do you?"

Rolling his eyes and reaching around, Hashimoto parted his soft brown hair on the back of his head with searching fingers to find the scar that would no doubt be there.

Yet... he was shocked when he felt zero jags or bumps on his scalp.

His surprised expression evidently told Taki everything he need to know, because the priest smirked and moved on to another question. "What about your blue car parked outside? Is it new?"

"N-no," stammered Hashimoto, "but-"

"And not a single scratch after your car accident?"

"I j- _I just got lucky!"_ snapped Hashimoto loudly. His raised voice drew brief glances from the offended patrons at surrounding tables, so he lowered his voice to a growl. "I didn't come here for this," he hissed. "And you know what? If all you can offer is some shady deal like that, then I think we're -"

"- Ah, there they are!"

Both Taki and Hashimoto turned to find the assistant vice principal being led by a waitress to their table, smiling with crinkled eyes. It was not who he was expecting, but never had Hashimoto felt more relieved to see a school superior walking up to him. Across, Taki set down his silverware and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. The beautiful priest rose from his seat, his cassock gently swaying, and inclined his head to acknowledge an elder's presence.

Meanwhile Hashimoto immediately bolted up from his chair and bowed quickly.

 _"Kouchou-sensei!"_ he greeted vigorously. "I'm sorry for the trouble. But where's the vice principal? I thought he was the one accompanying me this evening."

"Yes, but there's been a change of plans!" said the eldery assitance vice principal brightly, far too jolly for a grave meeting like this. "Unfortunately Kazuma-sensei has requested that I attend in his stead. He says he has an emergency that requires his immediate attention."

"Oh." Hashimoto threw Taki a dirty look before continuing. "In that case, thank you for your time and flexibilitiy."

"No worries, no worries!" The assistant vice principal waved for Hashimoto and Taki to sit down as the waitress pulled out a chair for him. He spotted the plates of veal on the table and the flickering candle between the two men, and raised his eyebrows. "It seems you two are already having quite a meal."

"It was ordered without my knowledge," said Hashimoto flatly. "I never asked for -"

"- it was a gesture of courtesy," Taki explained smoothly with a lovely smile. "Please excuse me if it was misinterpreted. Would you like anything from the menu, _kouchou-sensei?"_

"No, no, I'll pass!" said assitant vice principal, as the three of them settled down at the table. "Now, what's this business about club activities?"

Hashimoto jumped in immediately.

"You might've heard from your colleague, but Taki-san here has been refusing to allow his child to attend her club activities," he rambled, "and now I've just found out that he's taking her to an amusement park this weekend when she's supposed to be at band camp preparing for competition, and he doesn't care that she has a fear of heights and -"

"- heavens, Masahiro-kun, let's slow down!" exclaimed the assistant vice principal- then he hacked up an irritating little cough and wiped his lips with a napkin. "Now," he said, "explain to me why we are now discussing an amusement park?"

Hashimoto was now seriously pissed that Taki and man who was supposed to be supporting him were _both_ intently addressing him by his first name, but in the assistant vice principal's case there was nothing he could do but shut up and take the humiliation from his superior. He steadied himself, quashed the roil of fury and anxiety in his mind, and opened his mouth to deliver a more coherent summary.

But Taki spoke first.

"Thank you both for your concern." The priest gave a soft, slight bow. "My stepdaughter is new to high school and the toll on her focus has been concerning to me, as a parent and a priest. Her attendance has been poor and her grades are slipping. So, I think her time this weekend is better spent at cram school than at Hashimoto-sensei's musical club activities-"

"You _liar,"_ snarled Hashimoto. "You're taking Kousaka-san to an amusement park this weekend -"

"- next weekend, as a reward," said Taki gently. "If she does well on her exams -"

"She has a fear of heights!"

"I don't think she would've asked to go if she were scared of rides," said Taki, wearing that infuriatingly charming smile. "She's been quite -"

 _"You MONSTER!"_ roared Hashimoto uncontrollably, bolting loudly upright from his chair- and every single head in that stifling foreign restaurant turned to see Taki's sapphire-blue eyes widening in terror at Hashimoto towering over him like a red-faced pink-shirted maniac. He heard forks dropping in the silence that swept over the room. Taki pressed himself meekly into his chair and clutched his silver crucifix in a trembling hand, quicky crossing himself with his other.

As the slender priest peeked up timidly, it became obvious who appeared more like the victim in this situation, and who looked like the aggressor.

Hashimoto realized too late that he'd been played yet again.

Then, the assitant vice principal reached over and put a hand on Hashimoto's shoulder.

"You must be tired, Masahiro-kun," he said, as the restaurant patrons muttered away in the background. "We'll end this meeting here."

 _"No,"_ growled Hashimoto, "I'm not done with-"

"We're done," restated the assitant vice principal, "and we're leaving now."

And Hashimoto was powerless to argue.

He could only glare at Taki while the assistant vice principal bowed and apologized to Taki for the trouble while wishing his stepdaughter the best of luck at her supposed 'cram-school' this weekend. The old man hastily drew out his wallet and, apologizing to Taki all the while, paid for the two plates of expensive veal on the table. Taki responded with only grace and cordiality, never sparing Hashimoto a glance.

But Hashimoto felt sea-blue eyes on his back the entire time as he traipsed out of _L'iniziò Dellafine_ , silently raging, yet practically led on a leash by his superior. He turned around one last time to glare at Taki, who clasped his hands together with a self-satisified little smirk.

Fuming, Hashimoto wondered when he would meet with Taki again. He hoped it would be soon. He wasn't done yet with this evil priest.

He was starting to regret turning down that deal.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:**_

 _(This took so long to choose, but I finally decided that Taki should treat Hashimoto to veal instead of normal beef, or chicken, or fish. Veal is considered a very controversial dish because often the baby calves are kept chained up, so they can't move or grow muscles (to keep the meat tender). Then they are butchered at 4 months old. So of course Taki talks with Hashimoto over plates of veal, while using Reina's wellbeing as a bargaining chip during the discussion.)_

 _Art of Taki as a priest: **taki-sensei. tumblr post/165721569978/priesttaki-from-chapter-19-of-angels-in-the**_


	25. Molto Ritmico 20: Amber Light

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 20: Amber Light**

"Sweetie- where are you going?"

"Taking a walk," Kumiko answered stiffly, not sparing her confused American mom a glance as she stormed toward the door and mashed her feet into her sneakers. Today she wasn't even going to bother sneaking around like a chicken thief with her invisibility.

Her dad looked up from the chives he was mincing on the kitchen counter. He set his knife down, frowning.

"Kumi-hon, did something happen at school today?"

"Not really."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"I'll be back late-ish."

Kumiko slammed the apartment door shut behind her and dashed down the stairs to the lobby. She darted into the ladies' room, glared at her messy-haired self in the mirror, and watched her reflection melt into thin air until the mirror showed nothing but the tiled wall behind her. She was invisible now, and finally prepared in full.

The amber-eyed girl exited onto the cool nighttime street and stalked past the black car with tinted windows parked near her apartment building, paying no heed to the stupid military men seated inside with unwary binoculars still trained on her bedroom window. They didn't need her attention; Kumiko was long ahead of their game.

Tonight was a dry evening with gentle winds. Perfect for flying. Kumiko had her invisibility system down pat, she had Reina's true address at the church vividly memorized, she had no exams or homework due tomorrow, and the army spies sitting outside her home had no idea she had even left the building. All the pieces had fallen in place for her to come to Reina's aid.

The silvery moon sat basking in a thin layer of clouds overhead. Its soft light shone down on Kumiko as if to express approval of her endeavor, or perhaps to offer its well-wishes.

She glanced one last time at the black car holding whoever was on "Birdwatch Duty" tonight before returning her gaze to the sidewalk. It stretched out before her like an inviting airstrip.

Kumiko unfurled her sprawling amber-gold wings and, with a running start, leapt into the night sky. She tented her feathers to catch the wind, soaring unseen toward Kousaka Reina.

Sometimes Kumiko thought long and hard about different ways to rescue Reina from Taki Noboru. Maybe she'd run away with her best friend to fend for themselves on the streets? Desperate and penniless. But at least they'd be together, and Kumiko could protect Reina with her powers... no, Kumiko's mom and dad would cry their hearts out over her. Besides, that would make it all too easy for the government to cage her up as a specimen for dissection, and what was left as the end result? Reina would be alone and terrified again. Kumiko herself would be more helpless than ever, while the trumpet player would probably end up returning to her stepfather begging for forgiveness.

The other option was for Kumiko to persuade her own parents to adopt Reina. _You took me in, can't you take her too?_ But was that even legally possible if Taki Noboru didn't want to give up his daughter? Probably not. You couldn't go and adopt someone else's lawful child, ne? That would just be kidnapping.

At the moment, fleeing and adoption were the only two serious options Kumiko considered. But she knew there was a third choice... a horrible possibility...

It wouldn't be so difficult. To slip invisibily into the church tonight, and then set the building alight with a snap of her fingers and a rush of blazing fire. Rescue Reina, a damsel in distress in Kumiko's arms, and leave Taki Noboru to perish in the flames... it was entirely and effortlessly feasible, but therein lay the horror of the act.

It alarmed Kumiko to think how easily she could murder Reina's stepfather. Afterward she might repeat to herself for the rest of her life that it was to protect the girl she had a crush on. But she couldn't stand the idea of Taki Noboru's ghost eternally lurking in the shadows of her closet at night, or his burnt corpse appearing behind her reflection whenever she looked in the mirror, or even the mere thought of having that kind of blood on her hands.

 _My powers can really kill people,_ she thought, realization settling in. _That's the kind of power I have._ She had gone from conjuring spheres of light to plotting murder. What was next?

Kumiko suddenly felt very aware of just how truly powerful she could be.

* * *

A black crooked tree hunched next to the church rectory. It annoyingly prevented Kumiko from landing upfront on Reina's balcony, so istead she spiraled to the earth beside the back entrance of the church, where Reina had hugged her. Where she'd stood in the rain that night on the narrow pathway and watched the raven-haired girl disappear into the rectories, and where she'd cried while Hashimoto-sensei patted her back.

Evening moths fluttered in the orange light at the gaping maw of the concrete stairwell. Kumiko dropped her invisibility in the cool nightime shadows and shed her wings as she started to climb the stairs; amber feathers crumbled into dust in her wake, bone and sinew flaking away like ash until there was zero trace of her avian limbs.

By the time she'd reached the top Kumiko looked like a normal human once more. But as she peered into the darkened window, she saw that there was no one in the house. Maybe Reina had already gone to bed- but it was too early at night for that. Maybe Taki Noboru had taken her out somewhere, and today's trip had been a waste of time.

Kumiko went back downstairs. With an irritated sigh, she started toward a clear space on the lawn by the church to take off.

Then she realized there was light from within the church, glowing through the stained glass windows.

It couldn't hurt to check.

* * *

Distant choir music floated from the church as Kumiko approached the tall wooden doors at the building's entrance. The oaken doors swung open with her gentle push into a darkened lobby preceding the brightly-lit church, glowing blueish-white from fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The harsh blue light stung her sore eyes, which hadn't yet adjusted from the darkness.

Tiptoeing past the carpeted floor of the lobby, the brown-haired girl quietly darted into the church and nervously whisked herself into the nearest row of wooden pews, which were mostly empty except for a couple of people scattered amongst the front pews. It clearly meant that this wasn't a public church service for the masses. Rather, the focus was on the choir in the center before the altar, standing in rows and singing drowsily from hymnals. Tonight was probably a routine rehearsal for the choir.

Accompanying the singers on a small piano was a young priest in a black cassock with black hair and glasses. He played gently but emotionlessly, following the cues of the choir's conductor- a old priest wearing navy blue robes, waving his gnarly hands before the fatigued singers before him.

Kumiko eyed the old conducting priest. _That's probably Taki,_ she thought darkly. Taki had probably long ended his meeting with Hashimoto-sensei, and had come back to conduct his church's choir. This was who that old man must be. He looked like the kind of horrible human being who was behind Reina's suffering at home.

She was staring at him and considering exactly how to approach when the old priest cut off the choir.

 _"Otsukaresama deshita,_ everyone," he announced, in a frail but jolly voice. "Let's take a five-minute break."

As the singers mumbled and began to shuffle from their risers, sparse laymen in the pews began to rise and stretch. Maybe Reina was here. Kumiko searched for a brown and gold Kitauji uniform among them, but saw none of those colors.

Then she glimpsed bright amethyst eyes and raven-black hair in a tight ponytail- and let out a gasp.

Reina looked entirely different than her usual appearance at school. She was dressed in pure white robes that practically glowed in the blue fluorescent light. Snowy fabric cinched at her waist accented the trumpet player's elegant figure, while the folds of white cloth that formed her long sleeves hid her delicate hands. A red ribbon held her sleek black hair in a ponytail, and a bright silver crucifix hung from a thin chain around her neck. The entire ensemble lent Reina an air of surreal beauty; she looked like a demure angel, with more grace and divinity than Kumiko could ever hope to emanate, even with her own actual wings.

Reina was stunningly, jaw-droppingly attractive.

Kumiko swallowed and felt her cheeks flushing crimson.

 _I'm screwed,_ she thought. And she was, because the sight of Reina dressed like a goddess forced her to admit to herself two facts she had been denying and evading in her mind for the past few months: she was definitely not straight, and she had completely and irreversibly fallen for Kousaka Reina.

Reina gasped too when she realized it was Kumiko sitting in the back of the church. For several seconds they stared at each other: Kumiko enamored by Reina's startling beauty, Reina mortified to see someone so out-of-place in her church.

A split-second later, the shock subsided... and Reina began to angrily storm toward Kumiko, white robes swishing gracefully as she stalked down the center aisle. Kumiko shrank into the pew and patted her flushed cheeks with cold palms, hoping to make the color disappear.

Reina looked furious as she briskly scooted over next to Kumiko in the pew and grabbed the euphonium player's hand from her face.

 _"What are you doing here?!"_ she hissed. "You can't be here! How did you even get here?"

Kumiko opened her mouth, then closed it- like a stunned fish- before opening it again and managing a few words:

"Why do you look like that?"

"What do you mean?" snapped Reina.

Kumiko suddenly became aware of how dumb that sounded.

"Why are you wearing that?" she rephrased.

Reina looked confused for a moment. Then she glanced down at her silver crucifix, and the soft white robes, and understood Kumiko's source of confusion.

"I'm an altar girl," she explained more calmly. "We just had Mass. Did your parents drive you here?"

"I..." stammered Kumiko, squirming under Reina's suspicious narrowed eyes, "I s-sort of just-"

"- Reina, who is this?"

Both girls turned. Kumiko saw the young priest who had been playing piano, now looming over them in his black cassock and studying them from behind his glasses. At standing height he was quite tall, taller than her father or Hashimoto-sensei. Around the priest's neck hung the same silver crucifix worn by Reina, whom had inexplicably fallen silent.

"Hi," said Kumiko awkwardly, somehow hoping to use this introduction as a way to speak to the old priest at the front of the church whom was no doubt Reina's stepfather. She stood up to greet the young priest properly. "I'm Oumae Kumiko. I'm... uh, I'm Reina's friend from Kitauji. _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."_

She bowed quickly, but the bespectacled priest did not return her gesture.

Kumiko suddenly noticed the coldness in his blue eyes.

"I've heard quite a bit about you, Oumae-san," said the priest softly, wearing a small smile that did nothing to mask his frosty demeanor. "A pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Taki Noboru."

So this was Taki Noboru towering over her right now, his presence poisoning the air around them and casting a shadow in the fluorescent blue light. This was the man who was responsible for the numerous injuries Reina carried on her body, who had forced Reina to forfeit her audition, whose name could always cause Reina's smiles to fade.

Kumiko glared but said nothing. Next to her, Reina looked like she was trying to disappear into her seat.

Taki looked Kumiko up and down with cold blue eyes.

"Unremarkable," he murmured. "So boring. I wonder what she sees in you."

Kumiko narrowed her eyes- but then she realized the implications behind Taki's insults, and turned to Reina with a questioning look. But the trumpet player was staring resolutely at the floor, her cheeks flushed crimson. It was hard to tell if it was from anger or something else.

She returned her attention to Taki and was about to blurt out something offensive and possibly inappropriate when suddenly, the older priest who'd been conducting the choir appeared out of nowhere and butted in with a large smile.

"Ah, Father Taki greeting a new parishioner?" the old man chortled. "Welcome, welcome! I don't believe we've seen you in our church before. Always wonderful to see new faces. Are you religious, young lady? Might you be-"

"No," blurted Kumiko.

There was a brief silence.

It was the first time Kumiko had ever admitted it aloud. Inwardly she apologized to her mom and dad, whom would be devastated if they ever heard that. But she was not a Christian.

More silence.

Then Reina slowly stood up from the pew.

"We have an exam tomorrow," she said quietly. "You need to study."

"What exam?"

"You should leave, Kumiko."

Taki watched the two of them, his expression unreadable. Kumiko ignored him, keeping her eyes only on Reina.

"Then can you show me out?" she asked.

Reina glanced at Taki, as if wordlessly asking permission. Taki made a small gesture to dismiss both of them before turning on his heel, inky-black cassock swishing as he stalked away back toward the piano and regrouping choir members. The older priest raised an eyebrow at Kumiko before turning and following in Taki back toward the altar.

Kumiko swallowed as Reina pushed past her and beckoned her to accompany her out the door.

"Are you mad at me?" she proffered.

Reina said nothing.

The two girls exited the empty church lobby into the nighttime yard, following the path away from the building to the sidewalk connecting the main church to the rectories. Crickets chirped in the cool night air as the two girls headed toward the crooked black tree that had prevented Kumiko from landing earlier. Beneath the jagged branches was a small park bench, cast in the warm glow of the orange streetlamp from the rectory stairs. The soft amber light gave the bench the look of a haven. Above their heads was the tree, a cathedral of golden leaves and black branches shielding them from the stars in the sky, a stark contrast from the cold blue light in the church.

Kumiko sat down on the worn wood with Reina, and felt enveloped in a cocoon of amber in which the outside world was muted.

Reina did not look at Kumiko as she spoke.

"Are you trying to make my life harder?"

"I just wanted to help," said Kumiko pathetically. Now she was wondering why she had come here in the first place if she didn't have a reasonable plan with a degree of usefulness that fell in-between murdering Taki or not doing anything at all.

Reina sighed.

"Father Taki keeps me alive," she said. "Anything you could do to help would only take him away from me. I would die. That's what happens if you try to report. Besides," she added, "I only have two more years of high school. If I can earn a scholarship, I won't need to rely on him anymore. I've handled this for so long, so two more years is nothing."

"What about band camp? He really won't let you go?"

Reina shook her head, her amethyst eyes downcast. But when the raven-haired girl looked up, Kumiko saw that she wore a small smile.

"You really are brave, Kumiko. I guess you really meant it, when you said _'friends should have each others' backs.'"_

Despite her worry and anger at Taki Noboru, Kumiko couldn't help but grin.

"Does that make me special enough now?"

"No," snapped Reina, and Kumiko groaned.

Then her eyes widened when Reina suddenly reached up and took Kumiko's chin in her fingers.

"But," said the trumpet player, "you're just special enough for me to do this."

Reina leaned forward- Kumiko gasped in surprise- and felt Reina's soft lips pressing a kiss on her burning cheek, her glossy black hair brushing against Kumiko's ear and tickling as she retreated and then sat awkwardly on the bench as if nothing had happened. Kumiko reached up, heart pounding, and touched her face where Reina had kissed her. She turned and saw Reina tugging down the sleeves of her snowy-white robe and clasping her hands tightly in her lap before looking away, tension written in every line of her body.

Grinning like an idiot, Kumiko scooted closer to Reina until their thighs were just touching. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands either, so she folded them in her lap and looked up at the tree branches above them, smiling weirdly waiting for her blush to fade.

Then Reina said, in a more cross tone, "Hurry up and call your parents so you can leave."

"So I can study for my exam?"

Reina shot her a strange look of pleased annoyance as Kumiko added seriously, "Hai," and reached for her phone.

Even if it had been a stupid decision to fly here tonight, Kumiko was delighted with this outcome. It made everything tonight worth it. The two girls sat awkwardly on the amber-lit bench, relishing each others' company as Kumiko dialed and thought of a reasonable explanation to offer her parents when they picked up.

Neither girl was aware that they were being intently watched.

From the top floor of the church, observing at an open window, Taki Noboru adjusted his glasses and folded his arms.

He stared long and hard at Oumae Kumiko before he turned away, his black cassock swishing in his wake, and retreated into the darkness of the church attic.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** I drew art of AltarGirl!Reina and Angel!Kumiko! Here at **taki-sensei, tumblr, co m/post/166714766508/altargirlreina-and-wingedkumiko-from-angels-in**_


	26. Molto Ritmico 21: Black Cat

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 21: Black Cat**

Hashimoto had been sitting on his apartment balcony, enjoying the pleasant dusk breeze and studying the score to _Dance Movements: Molto Ritmico_ with a pad of sticky notes and a bundle of highlighters in his fist, when he'd heard the first soft _"meow."_

The band director looked up from the music in mild confusion.

 _I live on the ninth floor,_ he thought. _There's no way a cat could have wandered up here._

He returned his attention to the score, flipping through tall pages of dense notes and marking in rehearsal notes on the sticky pad. But then he heard it again:

 _"Meow."_

The whine was louder and more insistent this time, and clearly emitting from just nearby.

Hashimoto frowned.

He set the score aside on the rickety table on the balcony and put down the bundle of highlighters, then slowly rose from his wicker porch chair toward the railing. Beyond the brown-painted metal bars was a sheer one hundred-twenty foot drop to the apartment courtyards below. A fall from that height would instantly kill any human or animal. But there wasn't anything extraordinary there, so Hashimoto bent over the railing and checked both sides of the concrete walls framing his apartment.

And then...

 _"Meow!"_

... sounded from below. Hashimoto looked down and saw two small black paws clinging to the concrete edge of the balcony floor.

"There you are," he muttered. "Hold on, I've got you..."

He fell on his knees and reached underneath the lower rungs of the railing, feeling over the edge of the balcony until his hands wrapped around the warm body of the furball just over the edge. Carefully he lifted the animal until it was able to climb up and scoot itself under the railing. It was a coal-black and very fluffy cat. The fuzzy animal darted forward on little paws and lept up into Hashimoto's lap. It curled up there in a warm ball, purring while its little claws clung onto his khaki shorts.

Hashimoto knelt there on the concrete and dusted off his hands. Then he picked up the cat and held it out at arms length.

To his surprise, this cat had striking blue eyes, which wasn't common in black cats. It had no markings; it was just very soft and inky-black all over. He didn't have the knowledge to identify its exact breed. He checked its neck; no collar, no tags. Yet its fur seemed clean and well-groomed; plus it was too fat to be a stray. Maybe it had a tracer surgically implanted like Niiyama's Sweet Potato.

Holding the cat a bit closer, Hashimoto couldn't help but ask aloud, "So who do you belong to?"

The cat meowed again. Then it reached forward with two black paws and planted them on Hashimoto's scruffy chin.

Hashimoto laughed heartily. _Me?_ he thought.

"Okay," he said with a grin, "you can stay here for now, but I can't keep you."

Still holding the cat, he got up from the balcony floor and ducked back into the apartment. He let the cat down on the carpet before retrieving his phone from the dining table to search up what to do after finding a stray. He sat down on the floor next to the black cat, which had wandered over to smell his bookshelf or something. Multiple sources on the internet said to report it to local found lists and veterinarians. It was also probably a good idea to notify the landlord, and to take the cat to a vet and check for a tracking chip.

He glanced briefly at the black cat. It turned and met his gaze with those striking blue eyes. Hashimoto looked away and continued browsing search results. Those eyes reminded him of Taki Noboru's sea-blue eyes, of Taki's slender but strong figure beneath that black cassock, his elegant and delicate movements.

To be fair, it wasn't just this cat. Lately everything reminded Hashimoto of how sly and classy and cruel Taki had been. He compared movie characters and people in real life to Taki. He always thought about what venomous words Taki would say in different situations. Western food made him think of Taki. Churches made him think of Taki. It was maddening and confusing and shameful. He told himself that it was because he really, _really_ hated Taki, to the point of fascinated obsession- and perhaps it was- but he'd be lying to deny the presence of something else underneath.

 _Have you actually felt attracted to any guys in real life?_ Niiyama had asked, back when she'd picked him up from the hospital. _You don't have a clear type of guy?_

Hashimoto cringed at himself, not actually reading anything on the phone screen.

 _I guess I do now, Niiyama,_ he thought, inwardly admitting to himself the reality of his abnormality. _Maybe I'm really just that disgusting._

Suddenly a patter of little paws interrupted his thoughts. And then-

"- Hey, wait!"

He saw the black furball streak toward the balcony and jump onto the railing. The band director bolted to his feet and rushed after it, but he was too late. The cat hurled itself into oblivion. Hashimoto could only watch as it plummeted a hundred and twenty feet...

... and hit the ground running. Its tiny figure scampered out of sight somewhere into the courtyard below.

At least it survived. He'd forgotten that cats almost always landed safely on their feet. Hashimoto leaned against the balcony for a moment, catching his breath. Then he collected the score and highlighters and went back inside.

He sort of wished the black cat had stayed.

* * *

Ever since Hashimoto's disastrous meeting with Taki Noboru, Kousaka Reina had not attended any rehearsals. He checked with the main office and learned that she hadn't been going to classes either. In fact, she hadn't been showing up to school at all. It was difficult not to blame himself; Hashimoto continually reminded his conscience that it was Taki's fault for being manipulative and abusive in the first place. But he always thought about how the current situation might be better if he had handled Taki differently at _L'iniziò Dellafine._

When he tried to call Kousaka's home, Taki never picked up. Emails also yielded no response. So eventually Hashimoto turned to Oumae Kumiko for status updates on Kousaka's wellbeing.

"She doesn't text me a lot," Oumae said quietly in his office, scrolling through her messages with Kousaka. "She keeps saying she's feeling sick this week."

"Has she said anything about her stepfather?" asked Hashimoto.

"She said he wants her to 'stay home and feel better,'" said Oumae, the skepticism evident in her tone.

The next day the main office received a doctor's note forwarded from Taki, concerning Reina's health. The adminstrators all agreed that it was okay for Kousaka to miss class and band so long as she was contagious.

And there was nothing Hashimoto could do.

* * *

The long weekend approached quickly. Before anyone knew it, the first day of band camp arrived upon the Kitauji Concert Band. The ensemble packed their luggage and instruments, and boarded buses to camp without Kousaka Reina.

Band camp was rigorous and exhausting for both Hashimoto and his students, as it was each year. The morning began with extensive fundamentals before the students scattered throughout the facility to rehearse in sectionals. After lunch, the B band practiced moving equipment out onstage as efficiently as possible, while the A band rehearsed the required piece and _Dance Movements: Molto Ritmico_ again and again in mind-numbling loops to perfect the timing of the entire concert to fit within the required limit for prefecturals. Hashimoto monitored how exhausted and drained his kids were, particularly the brass players, but he forced himself not to allow them prolonged breaks. The idea was that if they could perform at an award-winning level despite debilitating exhaustion, then they would be more than prepared for the real competition.

On his end, Hashimoto's arms, shoulders, and back were all sore and cramping from conducting by dinnertime. He could have simply stopped conducting at noon and resorted to tapping his baton on the stand like a metronome, but that wouldn't have been fair to his students. If they were working so hard, then he needed to work twice as hard in order to respect their efforts.

At dinnertime, Hashimoto sat with his students. He joked around with them, devoured a giant tub of fried rice and gulped down half a gallon of miso soup (to the kitchen staff's horror), and then let Tanaka-san take over the evening bonding activities while he went up to his room for a two-hour break. Later he'd join them for fireworks and ice cream; then it would be time for unannounced midnight rehearsals. Only the third-years were briefed on what time and where the rehearsals would take place. The idea behind such brutal rehearsals was to force students to hold themselves to the same high standard of playing despite being sleepy and unprepared.

It all meant that this two-hour break was all Hashimoto would have to himself for the day. He intended to spend it lying on the floor like an limp vegetable.

Sighing and wincing as he lay down on the clean futon, his shoulders and back igniting with soothing pain as he stretched them out properly, Hashimoto lay sprawled for several minutes staring at the ceiling.

Then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to check notifications. There were plenty of social media alerts, a low battery warning, and several news and weather bulletins. He reacted to a message from Niiyama with a cat sticker, and replied to some emails from parents.

When he checked his texts, there was a string of messages from one person. _Unknown Number,_ the sender line read.

Hashimoto frowned, but deep in his stomach he felt a low thrill. He tapped open the texts:

Unknown Number: _She can still participate._  
Unknown Number: _The Agata Festival is next week. Agree now to attend and speak with me._  
Unknown Number: _I will drive her over as soon as you do._  
Unknown Number: _Do you accept?_

The band director blinked and crinkled his nose in disbelief. He sat up from the futon, holding his phone and staring at the texts with wide eyes.

How Taki had procured his private cell phone number was beyond him. It was extremely unsettling; he suddenly felt as if he were being watched by Taki right this moment. He felt hairs rising on the back of his neck; a mixture of fear and anticipation.

After some consideration, he decided the best and most obvious choice was not to respond. Besides, the Agata Festival was next Friday, the day before prefecturals, so he couldn't go anyway because he needed to sleep early and prepare himself mentally. Then Hashimoto reminded himself that he was just thinking about that as a technicality, and in reality wasn't actually considering going on a festival date with a child-abusing psychopath.

He reached up to block Taki's number. His finger hovered over the "block" button for a while.

Then he canceled the option, and just closed the text.

Hashimoto had to admit that he was morbidly curious as to what Taki might try next.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** a HUGE shoutout to Bloke for drawing gorgeous beautiful fanart of Kumiko with angel wings! Please go like and reblog it from them at their Tumblr: **blookity-bloke, tumblr, co m/post/166752436957/i-revisited-the-sound-euphonium-fandom-and-now**_

 _Be sure to follow them if you like their content! love their drawing style :)_

 _Also, I drew art of Hashimoto and the black cat! Here at **taki-sensei, tumblr, co m/post/166810277738/hashimoto-and-the-cat-from-angels-in-the**_

 _Thanks for reading!_


	27. Molto Ritmico 22: Damned Highway

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 22: Damned Highway**

"Did he see the text?"

"It's been opened," Reina answered flatly, sitting in the passenger seat with her hands folded on her lap.

"Did he block my number?"

Reina hesitated before answering truthfully:

"... No."

From behind the wheel, Father Taki smiled.

They sped down the highway without reason or rhyme. There were no stop signs, no speed limit. Father Taki had paid their dues, and there was no turning back. Colorful lights began to emerge in the distance as they neared their destination.

Silence, save for the rumble of the car. Then Father Taki asked quietly, "Are you ready for tonight?"

Reina swallowed. She said nothing.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _Posted at the same time as the previous chapter (they're connected.) (Also, did anyone pick up on the song reference in this chapter? ;)_

 _As usual, please follow my tumblr tag for info on my progress :) **taki-sensei, tumblr, co m/tagged/aita**_

 _Thank you to everyone who sends asks about when the next chapter's coming out, people who comment with over-the-top reactions (those are so fun to read!), people who leave short but sweet comments, and people who message! You guys are all wonderful 3_


	28. Molto Ritmico 23: Ferris Wheel

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 23: Ferris Wheel**

Kumiko tossed and turned in her futon, unable to sleep despite the mind-numbing first day of camp. She felt stuck in the awful zone between exhaustion and restlessness. Her constant shifting was obviously starting to irritate Hazuki, but at least Midori was out like a light in her own corner.

The two bass section members were Kumiko's only roommates for this weekend. Each dormitory was supposed to accomodate four occupants, but Hashimoto-sensei had been kind enough to leave an extra spot in their quarters for Reina in case she showed up at the last minute. But now it seemed the space next to Kumiko on her futon would remain empty for the rest of camp.

 _Why?_ she thought to herself, flipping over on her side and glaring at the shuttered window. _Why is Reina's stepdad such a jerk?_

In her palms she felt heated power concentrating, and wrapped them into fists and willed the glowing light to die away. Her abilities had grown stronger over the past year, but it meant she had to control herself.

Suddenly Kumiko had the urge to burst outside and stretch her wings in the sky to relieve her mounting frustration. She craved the icy chill of high-altitude wind tearing through her hair and the stomach-turning adrenaline of fast flight. of Her fingers twitched as she clutched her covers. _No,_ she couldn't do that; she wouldn't get enough rest and it would affect her contribution to the band tomorrow. _I've got to try and sleep._

Kumiko closed her eyes and returned to thinking about Reina.

In her head, in a treasured box, she kept a secret collection of memories like rare souvenirs. They were hoarded from all the moments she spent with Reina. Kumiko liked to take out each memory and examine them, turning them over in her mind. She did this when class got too boring, or when she was walking to school, or lying on her bed after turning off the lights.

Now, Kumiko mentally opened the box and lifted out the recollection of Reina falling asleep in her lap the evening of the office incident. There was the memory of Reina's rare smile when Kumiko had answered well in rehearsal, and the heartwarming moment when Reina had went out onto the outdoor walkway to get Kumiko despite her fear of heights. Kumiko savored these smaller vignettes, but they paled in comparison to the brightest gem so far: the unforgettable sensation of Reina's lips grazing her cheek before pressing on her skin.

That night on the bench beside the church would stay with Kumiko forever, but it also drove her mad with its implications. Had Reina simply intended to say goodbye in the European custom of a kiss on the cheek, or did it mean something more? Probably it wasn't special, because Taki probably raised Reina with Western Christian traditions like Kumiko's American parents did, so maybe kisses were normal for Christians? Or maybe it really was an intentional sign, because the trumpet player was definitely blushing, so red that the flush was visible even under the amber lamplight. That wasn't damning evidence on its own though. It was pretty chilly outside that night, so maybe the color in Reina's cheeks was from the cold.

Ever since that night, Kumiko began considering more seriously her odds of success. Was Reina available? She had never seen Reina act intimately with any guy, or even speak to any guys at all. Reina didn't speak much with people in general. But the elegant girl was secretive and mysterious and for all Kumiko knew, she was already in a relationship or just wasn't interested in girls.

She wondered where Reina was right now, or what she was doing.

 _Should I be more forward?_ thought Kumiko, sighing quietly into her covers and shifting her feet. She'd never done this before and wasn't sure how it worked. For her entire life she'd only seen the stereotypes of straight couples around her or on TV. So what about other kinds of relationships? _Does one girl have to be more like the dude? Is it supposed to be me, because I'm taller? Who's supposed to make the first move? But then... what if my parents found out? What if Taki Noboru found out?_

"Ugh!" exclaimed Kumiko aloud, before she could stop herself.

A rustle and grunt from beside her. Then Hazuki grumbled with a cracked voice, "Kumiko-chan... stop making so much noise."

"Oh... sorry," Kumiko offered.

When Hazuki was quiet again, Kumiko rolled over onto her back. She spread her arms and legs like an angry starfish and glared up at the ceiling. Her restlessness had only gotten worse, but she still had to try and sleep. Otherwise she'd no doubt wake up exhausted tomorrow. Determined to fall asleep, the euphonium player squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to clear her head.

Ten minutes later she gave up.

Kumiko crawled out of the futon and changed into her red Kitauji freshman gym clothes. She told herself she wouldn't be out for too long. Making sure her roommates were sound asleep or turned the other way, she flickered out of sight into invisibility. Then she climbed up onto a table and leapt out the window.

As soon as Kumiko was high enough off the ground to ascend beyond the pitch-black treetops, she caught sight of sparkling rainbow lights in the distance, just within reach. Beyond the isolated sea of darkness in which the campground facility was situated, they twinkled invitingly.

It looked like a lot of fun.

* * *

 _"Outpost-Actual, this is Birdwatch One. Number three has disappeared- repeat- Number three has disappeared. Over."_

 _"'Disappeared?' What do you mean, 'disappeared? Over.'_

 _"Never saw her exiting but she is no longer in the dorm."_

 _"Check window cams?"_

 _"Left window is wide open, but there's no record of her exiting."_

 _"Then_ how did she get out?"

* * *

Two-hundred feet above the glowing amusement park, Kumiko flitted excitedly above all the shimmering rides. The refreshingly cold wind ruffled her invisible amber feathers as she circled over the fairground. Its kaleidoscopic lights and the thrill of her flight had lifted her spirits, until she wanted nothing more than to land amongst the unsuspecting crowd and partake in the festivities.

 _Why not?_ she thought gleefully, already dropping her altitude and spiraling toward the earth. No one could see her. Besides, she was hungry... and what was the point of being young and delinquent and invisible if she didn't steal carnival food from the colorful stands below?

Kumiko swooped past the whirling top of a merry-go-around, made a circle around the spinning trapeze swings, and found a empty spot to touch down. She was now close enough to the ground the she could hear the buzz of the nighttime crowd and the screams of riders. At the last few feet, the brown-haired girl excitedly broke out of her glide and flapped her massive wings until she gently landed in a quiet patch of the amusement park.

 _Don't bump anyone while you're invisible,_ she thought to herself, shedding her burdensome wings like an awkwardly molting bird. But when she mingled into the crowd, unseen and wingless, Kumiko found that no one noticed even if she grazed someone's back accidentally elbowed them. There were simply too many people and everyone was shuffling around in line for rides or games, too impatient to pay attention or care.

Emboldened, the euphonium player made her way toward the food stalls. Strings of rainbow lights overhead criss-crossed the rows of stalls beneath which the excited crowd milled about eating their purchases. Wonderful smells of caramel and fried food filled Kumiko's nose as she browsed, looking for something yummy. There were hot dogs on sticks, _yatsuhashi_ sweets, popcorn and cotton candy, and artisan candymakers who shaped lumps of clear molten sugar into elaborate goldfish and butterflies. All of it looked amazingly delicious.

She settled on choosing a hot dog, and invisibly plucked one from the stall when no one was looking. When the stick touched her fingers, it shimmered out of sight like the rest of her body.

Kumiko sighed, wishing Reina were here with her. What kind of food what the trumpet player buy if she were here? Definitely not something as crude and cheap as a hot dog. Reina was too elegant for that. She'd probably get something Italian, since Kumiko always saw Italian food in her lunchboxes when they ate together. Or maybe she had a hidden love for sweets that no one knew about, or maybe she liked food that was just as gross as Kumiko's preferences.

 _I'll find out one day,_ thought Kumiko. She wanted to bring Reina here- okay, maybe not _here,_ since Reina wasn't fond of heights- but somewhere festive like this. Would that be weird? Would that make it a date?

"Why am I so awkward?" she murmured aloud.

A random stranger turned, but saw nothing and looked away.

Kumiko frowned. She didn't want to eat her stolen food among the massive crowd, so it was time to clear out. With a runnning start, she fanned out her wings with a _whoosh_ of cold air, feeling them extend and expand as she ran.

Her back was starting to feel tired and sore. Kumiko grimaced as she dashed forward, flapping her wings to catch the wind. She felt her weight lift from the ground until there was empty air at her feet- then she forcefully pushed herself to a comfortable gliding altitude and searched for a spot to perch and rest.

Only now did Kumiko realize how much strength it cost her to shed and regrow her wings.

Twice was probably the maximum she could handle without a period of rest. Her thrill had worn away into an aching tiredness in her upper and lower back, and all she wanted to do was land and eat the hot dog clenched in her fingers.

The wing-molting problem was something to take note of in case she needed to fly in a true emergency.

* * *

 _"Listen up, fellas and gals. There's no need to panic yet. Kids sneak out for all kinds of reasons. Birdwatch One: remain in position on standby- break-break- Birdwatch Four, take a search party and comb the campgrounds. Avoid making a fuss. If you find her, pose as security and bring her back."_

 _"Roger."_

 _"And if she's not found by daybreak, prepare for a code red."_

 _"... Roger."_

* * *

Kumiko settled on choosing the ferris wheel as her picnic spot. When the glowing rainbow wheel paused its turning to load new passengers, she landed softly on the roof of an empty carriage and folded her wings on her back. The painted metal roof wobbled unsteadily under her weight- vertigo hit Kumiko in a rush- and she panicked momentarily before finding her balance and gripping a bar on the wheel for support. In her other hand she clutched the hot-dog-on-a-stick.

The wheel turned slightly, bringing the invisible Kumiko and the carriage she rode on to the ground. She at first that thought it was time to head upward, but apparently the shift was to allow more passengers to board the carriages to her right and left.

Her own carriage jolted as two passengers boarded. Kumiko couldn't see what they looked like in the dark. The carriage jerked again as an employee shut the gate. She gripped the bar tightly as her carriage swung back and forth on its hinges.

Soon her carriage stopped swinging and all the seats on the ferris wheel were filled. Then the employee gave the thumbs-up for departure, and they were off.

Kumiko smiled beneath the colorful lights as the ferris wheel carried her up toward the night sky. It was exhilarating and freeing to know that she could jump off anytime, on any whim, and fly invisibly back toward camp.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she heard the passenger say below the roof, speaking to his companion. He had a gentle but somewhat familiar voice. "Open your eyes. Look."

The ferris wheel had now taken them to its crest, just about to descend once more. Kumiko gazed beyond the rainbow lights at the breathtaking sight below; a merry sea of glittering gold and rainbow lights sprawling across the dark land like spilled treasure. Roller coasters illuminated by colorful lights looked like strings of bright gems, the spinning carousels and tilt-a-whirls like small peppermints. The nighttime fairground was truly magnificent in every sense of the word.

Kumiko felt glad she'd snuck out tonight. The only thing that'd make this better was if Reina were here with her.

Soon the carriage began its descent. Kumiko started in on her hot dog, but it was cold by now.

 _No problem; that's an easy one to fix._

She wrapped her free hand into a tight fist, then concentrated. When she opened her palm, a small ball of golden light hovered in the center, hot enough to sear anything but its creator. Satisfied, Kumiko held the hot dog above her light until the fat began to sizzle. Before long the sausage was slightly burnt on the outside. In her mouth it was perfectly juicy with a crispy outside.

On nights like these Kumiko felt grateful for her powers. In the past it had been a source of anxiety and discomfort, but now she was just pleased to be able to do whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. Maybe this was good enough. She didn't have to be a heroine, or an angel of God, or something dramatic like that. There didn't have to be a grandiose purpose for her existence (or possibly creation). Maybe it was enough that she was happy.

Kumiko finished the hot dog as the ferris wheel lowered them to the ground, spun past the employees and waiting passengers, and continued onto its second spin. Still chewing her last bite of ketchup and sausage, se tossed the stick away into the night air when the carriage rose again with the wheel.

 _I'll jump when we get to the top,_ she thought, _then go back to camp._

When she swallowed her food and shifted her wings on her back to get comfortable and enjoy the scenery, Kumiko heard something she hadn't noticed before:

Someone was crying quietly in the carriage she was sitting on. A girl's muffled sobs.

Then she heard the man's soft voice again:

"I _said_ to open your eyes."

"W- when can we g-get off?"

"We'll get off whenever you decide you're ready to stop acting like a cripple."

The girl started to cry harder. Somehow Kumiko thought she sounded terrifyingly _familiar,_ but no... that couldn't be...

"I can't," the girl sobbed, voice rising. "I want to g-get off-"

 _CRACK._ The sound of a cruel slap.

Several seconds of silence.

The ferris wheel reached its crest again. This time it stopped, holding Kumiko and the passengers in her carriage at the peak height of the wheel.

Then the man spoke now, his low tones barely audible from the roof where Kumiko sat eavesdropping with wide eyes.

"We're going to go on every ride in this park," he muttered, and the girl started to cry hysterically, "until you learn to control yourself. Do you understand?"

Silence.

"I've let this go on for long enough," murmured the man eventually. "This is for your own good."

Kumiko swallowed.

Carefully, she scooted to the end of the carriage roof and leaned her head over, facing a sheer two-hundred-foot drop. She edged closer until she could peek upside-down into the carriage beneath her...

... and saw Kousaka Reina and Taki Noboru.

Shock hit Kumiko as she pulled up and away from the edge. Her wings twitched and jerked slightly unfolded as anger overcame her.

Reina had looked painfully small, huddled in a quivering ball on the carriage seat. Taki, that evil bastard priest, had been looming over her like some dark demon. And Taki had slapped her, threatened her, and was planning to exploit Reina's fear of heights for the rest of the night.

 _I'm going to kill him._ Fiery heat swelled uncontrollably in her palms. She could pounce invisibly on Taki and hurl him over the edge. He was right below her; she could do it now and Reina could claim it was a freak accident. It was that simple. _I could do it now._

But then she thought of Reina's words: _"Father Taki keeps me alive."_ Who would feed and clothe and shelter Reina if Kumiko killed Taki? Only the foster system, maybe. But was the foster system better for Reina, or was staying with Taki the better option?

Then the heat in Kumiko's palms faded away as she realized why she couldn't help Reina tonight.

It was not a question of murder. That was a different moral issue itself. But Kumiko suddenly understood that it wasn't her right to commit this act. The choice between Taki or the foster system was Reina's choice, and Reina's alone. The trumpet player was anything but stupid, so she undoubtedly had important reasons for staying the abusive priest, reasons that she probably hadn't shared with Kumiko. If Kumiko lost control of her impulsivity tonight it would show neither bravery nor friendship; only a lack of faith in Reina's judgment.

She swallowed and quelled the heat in her palms. It was time to go back.

Kneeling on the carriage roof, Kumiko spread her wings and flexed the massive feathers and stretching the avian limbs over the sides of the carriage as she prepared for flight.

Then she heard Taki's voice:

"What... is that?"

She froze in place.

And then she felt a tug on the tip of her wing...

... Taki was _pulling_ on her wing.

Kumiko gasped in horror and immediately pulled her wings back, folding them and huddling on the roof. Dammit, her _invisibility._ She must have forgotten in her shock at seeing Reina and dropped her damn invisibility. She fumbled with her remaining options as her heart threatened to burst from her throat. It was too late to jump from the ferris wheel without shaking the entire carriage, so she recomposed her obscurity and stayed still and silent. Hopefully... just maybe... Taki would check the roof, see no one there, and decide he'd just seen a bird.

Silence.

"What was that?" asked Reina in a small voice.

A pause. Kumiko took a deep breath and shut her eyes.

Then Taki said,

"It's him."

Kumiko frowned and blinked in confusion. _Him? Who's him?_

"I know it was him," repeated Taki. His smile was evident even in his voice. "He must have ran off. The feathers were brown. It was definitely him."

Suddenly the ferris wheel began to move again. Before Kumiko heard anymore from Taki or Reina, she knew this was her only chance to jump; the jolt from her departure would be confused with the swinging of the carriage from the wheel's motion. Scrambling to the edge of the roof, Kumiko immediately let herself tumble over the edge before tenting out her wings to break the fall and glide into the ink-black sky. The brown-haired girl flew away from the amusement park, where Reina was doomed to suffer through the rest of the night with Taki, and soared back toward the safety of camp...

... where Midori and Hazuki were sound asleep, and none the wiser about anything that had transpired around them.

Having shed her wings outside, Kumiko snuck in past the lobby and tiptoed down the facility hall toward her room.

When she reached the entrance, she let her invisibility melt away in the empty hallway. Then she quietly slid open the door and closed it behind her.

It had been a long day, and a long night, and tomorrow's full day of camp would undoubtedly be even longer. Kumiko flopped onto her futon without bothering to change out of her gym clothes. Exhaustion was starting to sting her sore eyes. It was the crushing weariness that only followed after a long period of intense fear, only curable with plenty of rest in a safe place.

The last thing Kumiko remembered before falling asleep was opening her phone and sending a _Missing you!_ sticker to Reina. She hoped sadly that her attempts to contact Reina would give her some sort of comfort despite what she was going through tonight. Right now, it was all she could offer.

* * *

Kumiko did not know that her reentry to the camp facility was closely monitored.

Tanaka Asuka watched grimly as Kumiko shimmered into sight in the hallway.

When the angel had entered her room and closed the door, Asuka picked up her comm unit and clicked it to life. She sighed and adjusted her red glasses before speaking:

"Birdwatch One reporting. Number three is back."

 _"Birdwatch One, that's a relief to hear, but how'd she get in? Cams caught nothing."_

"That's the thing, sir."

 _"What thing?"_

Asuka grimaced.

"We appear to have a new problem."


	29. Molto Ritmico 24: Midnight Snack

**Angels in the Architecture**

 **Part 2: Molto Ritmico**

 **Chapter 24: Midnight Snack**

After another grueling day of rehearsals, the last night of band camp finally arrived.

Hashimoto retreated to his single room in the camp facility and burrowed straight into his futon without showering or undressing. He took off his glasses, yawning and rubbing his tired eyes, and grabbed a bottle of water to chug down aspirin tablets. Then he turned off all the lights save for a small lamp by the futon. The band director stretched out lazily for several minutes unwinding in the peace and quiet.

Then it got _too_ quiet, and a bit lonely in the dark, so Hashimoto reached over into his bag by the futon and grabbed a bag of barbecue-flavored potato chips. He turned on the TV in search of something to fill the silence.

Immediately what popped up was a boring looking news channel currently doing a weather bit:

 _"This evening's summer storms will continue late into the night, but the skies will clear by early tomorrow morning's bright and early sunrise..."_

Hashimoto stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth as he glanced at the dark window, where heavy rain pattered on glass. Soft blue lightning flashed in the distant clouds.

Earlier because of the storm, Kitauji's students had to cancel their post-rehearsal bonfire night and instead settled on an evening of board games. Hashimoto had joined his kids for a few starting rounds despite his exhaustion, out of a fatherly sort of obligation. But even in the beginning many students were too drained to participate. Most kids bailed after the first thirty minutes, and by the hour's end the common area had completely emptied out. Everyone, teacher and students alike, just yearned for bed.

Hashimoto yawned again. Then he replaced his glasses on his nose and leaned back in the bluish glow of the TV.

 _"Following the death of the Nakamura family head this Friday,"_ said the newscaster, " _the religious government of Masa island has begun its process of transitioning theocratic power to presumably the eldest of the Nakamura sextuplets. However, there are signs that some of the six heirs are treating the situation with little-to-no weight."_

 _"The second-eldest of the sextuplets, for one, has reportedly decided to hold a musical performance in the wake of his father's death, though it is unclear if the concert is to mock or honor the late Nakamura."_

The TV cut to footage of a Nakamura sextuplet in the Masa Island church, drunkenly playing- _god forbid_ \- the marimba, Hashimoto's own beloved instrument of study.

 _"The marimba is Nakamura-san's instrument of choice for this bizarre performance,"_ narrated the newscaster. _"Widely considered a comedic and ridiculous percussion instrument, the marimba is a relative of the more well-known xylophone. It does not have a very elegant sound, especially not with-"_

 _CLICK._ Hashimoto turned off the TV, rolling his eyes as he crunched on chips. Mallet instruments already got enough ridicule in popular culture, so the marimba didn't need this kind of weird and unflattering publicity. Hopefully it wouldn't affect percussion enrollment rates in Kitauji's feeder elementary schools, or else Hashimoto and Niiyama were bound to suffer a dearth of marimba students within three to five years.

Hashimoto yawned again.

The band director set aside the bag of chips, shuffled deeper under his blankets, and set an early alarm on his phone.

He switched off the lamp and closed his eyes in darkness.

* * *

Hashimoto dreamed that he was young again. Much younger; he was a child. A toddler being chased by soldiers and hounds up a flight of narrow stairs. Behind him, the echoes of snarling and barking and pounding bootsteps drew near while his tiny self stumbled desperately on short legs.

At the end of the stairwell there was a door. He saw himself lift his hand- a child's hand- and blast it open with deafening force. The world flooded in blindingly bright and cold... and high. He teetered on concrete rooftop rising dozens of meters above the earth.

 _"HURRY!"_

Hashimoto turned, and glimpsed another ragged child running behind him. Clothed in a filthy medical gown, bald head bearing a tattooed serial number.

He couldn't remember what the child's blurred image looked like.

 _Except for the flash of a swan's white wings-_

* * *

 _"Meow..."_

Hashimoto opened his eyes.

 _"... meow..."_

Assuming the noises were from his phone, the band director rolled over and tapped his lock screen to mute the device.

And then saw blue eyes staring at him in the darkness.

 _"Meow!"_

 _"AHHHHHGGH!"_ yelled Hashimoto, flinching upright in his covers.

The source of the meowing ignored his reaction; it silently slunk closer toward him in the darkness, tiny paws treading on the futon. Hashimoto's hands scrambled wildly around him, hitting his phone and the bag of potato chips, until he located his glasses. He shoved them on his face and turned on the light, panting heavily.

His green eyes adjusted to the raw light as he saw exactly who- or _what_ \- was puttering around on his futon.

"What?" he croaked. "You again?"

The fuzzy black cat meowed loudly. It was no doubt the exact same one that visited his apartment and then jumped off his balcony.

Hashimoto frowned and ran a hand through his brown hair.

"How'd you even find me here?" he muttered.

The cat ignored him. Instead it went straight for the still-open bag of potato chips by the side of the futon. It shoved its face into the bag, and had started munching by the time Hashimoto reacted.

"No no _no!"_

He lunged forward from the futon and wrapped both hands around the cat's fuzzy body, dragging it away from the chips while it yowled and flailed. Honestly i t wasn't that Hashimoto didn't want to share. But he had never owned a cat before, and had no idea what was toxic to cats besides chocolate and lilies. What if something in the chips made this cat sick? He didn't want to be responsible for that.

Surprisingly the cat calmed down quickly enough that he was able to let it down on the floor while he crawled out of the futon and stowed the chips away out of the reach.

 _"Meow..."_

Hashimoto felt warm fur rubbing against his legs and looked down. The cat was staring at him with pleading blue eyes.

"You're hungry?"

The cat meowed again.

Hashimoto glanced at the chips. Then back at the cat.

He was still wearing his daytime clothes, so it wouldn't be too much trouble to go outside...

He sighed.

"Fine," he muttered.

* * *

The camp facility was as quiet as a graveyard, lit only under the cloud-blurred moon and disturbed by pattering rain.

Hashimoto wasn't sure of the proper way to carry a cat, so he sneaked toward the facility kitchens with the animal tucked awkwardly under his arm, wincing every time the wooden floor squeaked beneath his slippers. He told himself that this would be a quick trip and prayed to death that all his kids were sound asleep from exhaustion. If a student saw their teacher like this, creeping around in the dark like a thief and breaking multiple school rules... no amount of classroom management techniques would save him then.

Luckily his room wasn't too distanced from the camp kitchens, so Hashimoto managed to arrive in little time. He stuck his head into the doorway and peered around the darkened dining hall.

It was empty. Good.

The band director turned his attention to the cat tucked under his arm.

 _"Shh,"_ he told it emphatically, then began to move forward.

So far the situation was unfolding smoothly as planned. The cat stayed still and silent while Hashimoto crossed the dining hall into the kitchens and dug around on a shelf stacked with cardboard boxes. Quickly he acquired a can of precooked chicken chunks packed in broth, something he was sure this cat could eat safely.

Now he just had to get back to his room.

But halfway across the dining hall, there was a quiet _'crunch.'_

Hashimoto stopped in his tracks.

Several feet away, he spotted food ingredients strewn on a table in the corner of the room. There was a bag of sliced bread, a bundle of lettuce, and an open box of deli meat. He hadn't noticed it when he first scouted out the dark room. Maybe a student had left this stuff lying out after a midnight snack.

He reached over to the wall and flicked the light switch. Fluorescent light flooded the room -

-and suddenly he saw _Oumae-san_ sitting next to the ingredients.

The teacher and student silently gawked at each other in mortified disbelief.

Hashimoto could've _sworn_ the table was empty just moments before, but now here was Oumae-san, looking completely ridiculous. The freshman clutched a piece of half-bitten lettuce in one hand and a slice of raw bread in the other. For some reason her ice-cream-shaped hair dripped water on the floor, her uniform was sopping wet, and she sat in a puddle of water on the bunch. She looked like she'd fallen into a swimming pool and then decided to make a sandwich afterward.

Then Hashimoto finally uttered,

"What... are you _doing?"_

Oumae-san blinked.

"What are _you_ doing?"

Hashimoto opened his mouth to lecture the kid. But then he realized he was the one standing here like an idiot with a squirming cat tucked under his arm and canned food he'd just stolen from the kitchen.

"I was," he said lamely, _"patrolling."_

"Is that your cat, sensei?"

"Were you outside in the rain?"

"Yeah, but is that your -"

"What were you doing out there?"

"Patrolling."

Then Oumae-san's hand flew over her mouth in horror as she realized she'd just thrown attitude at a teacher. But it was such a great answer that Hashimoto couldn't keep from belting out a hearty laugh. Oumae seemed to relax slightly when it was clear Hashimoto didn't take offense.

Meanwhile the cat tucked under Hashimoto's arm didn't seem to like this at all. It squirmed and hissed as Hashimoto approached his student. Eventually it got so offended by the presence of another human being that it leaped from Hashimoto's arm, claws skittering on the wooden floor, and scurried across the dining hall out of sight.

Hashimoto grimaced and watched the cat disappear out of the open door, slightly disappointed by the loss of his furry visitor. But his student didn't look too well, and that was simply more important.

He stopped in front of Oumae-san and set down the can of chicken on the table.

"Can I sit?"

Oumae blinked, then nodded.

Hashimoto joined her on the bench across, the one that wasn't soaked with rainwater. He gestured at the lettuce, bread, and deli meat.

"Are you literally just eating sandwich ingredients?"

"No!- actually- yeah."

Hashimoto gave the kid a WTF look, then took a slice of bread from the open bag.

"Why were you out of bed?" he asked more gently, placing some deli meat on the bread. "You kids don't usually sneak out when it rains."

"I was looking for something," said Oumae quietly.

"You lost something?"

"Kind of. Not really."

It was a weird answer, but Hashimoto figured he shouldn't push it. He plucked a leaf of lettuce from the bundle.

"There's a lost-and-found here in the camp office," he said. "Tomorrow morning I could-"

"- sensei, can you tell me about Asuka-senpai?"

Hashimoto frowned at the abrupt question and paused in his construction of a proper sandwich.

"What?" he said.

"Asuka-senpai. Didn't her mother last year... in your office...?"

It was clear what Oumae was hinting at, but Hashimoto knew this wasn't open for discussion. "I can't say much about her family matters, but I can tell you she's doing alright now."

"How did it become alright?"

"To be honest, I don't know," Hashimoto admitted. "The abuse seemed to stop at the end of her second year. Maybe Tanaka-san managed to resolve things with her mother. Why are you asking?"

Oumae seemed to hesitate.

"I heard you couldn't help Asuka-senpai because you didn't have enough evidence."

"You seem very well-informed, Oumae-san."

"Is it true though?"

Hashimoto sighed.

"There are a whole bunch of laws and regulations that public school teachers have to follow," he explained flatly. "A lot of it is stupid. For one: every single time I explicitly ask a student about a personal situation, I risk losing my job."

"That's dumb," blurted Oumae-san.

"I do it because all of you are worth it," said Hashimoto. "The bottom line is that I can't legally intervene without substantial incriminating evidence, or a direct plea from a student. And, you know, that rarely happens because kids are scared of repercussions at home. Or they're scared of losing their parent."

"What if the student _does_ ask for help?" said Oumae-san, eyes suddenly widening.

"Even then, not much. All I can do is turn it over to CPS."

Hashimoto turned his attention back to the half-assembled sandwich in his hand. He added some more deli meat.

Oumae suddenly spoke up again.

"So what counts as 'substantial incriminating evidence?'"

Hashimoto felt growing suspicion.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Does a recording count?"

 _Oh god,_ _I knew where this was going._

"Like a video recording of something happening," Oumae kept saying, shifting in her seat now. "What if you got a really clear video of -"

"Oumae-san." Hashimoto put down the sandwich on the table. He leaned forward. "Don't you _dare."_

Silence.

"Do you know how much danger you'd be in?" said Hashimoto softly. "You've seen Kousaka-san's injuries. If you were caught -"

"I wouldn't be!"

"You don't know that -"

"- I _do!"_ Oumae yelled. "I could get it to you!"

"Then it would be deemed inadmissible evidence because it was illegally recorded. Then administration would force me to turn you to the police for trespassing. And then you would be charged as a juvenile and likely expelled. I would feel guilty for not stopping you. And worst of all, Kousaka-san would feel responsible."

The last sentence seemed to hit Oumae-san hard. Tears welled up in her amber eyes.

Hashimoto sighed when she started to cry. Indeed the first thing he'd really wanted to do was tell Oumae how brave she was, and how caring, and how kind. But he didn't want to say anything that might encourage her to do something rash and impulsive.

He added the last slice of bread to the sandwich he held, wrapped it in a napkin, and then stood up. Gently he beckoned his student to follow.

"Let's get you back to your room, kid."

* * *

By now the rain had faded away to a hazy midnight mist, tiny droplets kissing their skin as they crossed through outdoor walkways. Remembering that his student was still sodden with water, Hashimoto took a detour to a supply closet near the bathrooms to borrow a facility-owned towel. He put it over Oumae's damp ice-cream hair.

They continued down the halls until they stopped in front of Oumae's room, in which her friends were presumably sound asleep. By now Oumae had mostly stopped crying.

Hashimoto gave the napkin-wrapped sandwich to her.

"This is for you," he said. "Don't wake up late for rehearsal, alright?"

Oumae bowed politely.

 _"Arigatou gozaimashita."_

Hashimoto waved it off.

"Remember the best thing you can do right now is be available for Kousaka-san," he told her quietly. "You can't help anyone if you've been expelled. Keep up what you're doing and do _not_ do anything stupid. Promise me?"

The kid stared off to the side at the floor, fingers pinching the hem of her soggy skirt.

"You need to promise me, Oumae-san."

Oumae turned to him with oddly piercing amber eyes.

"I promise," she said.

Satisfied with that answer, Hashimoto let her go back to bed while he went back to the dining hall to clean up the scraps of food littering the table so he wouldn't get complaints from staff members the next day. He also made a mental note to return the chicken he'd originally stolen for the hungry cat.

He did not know that Kumiko's promise was spoken with her fingers crossed behind her back.


End file.
